Mistress by Mistake
by LittleTwilightManiac
Summary: Edward misjudges Bella, believing she was trying to seduce his wealthy nephew. Edward seems intent on having her himself… but is he only protecting his fortune? Especially as his ex-fiancé seems to clearly want him back… what are Edward’s plans? R&R AH
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey Guys! I would like to thank anybody who is reading this for still sticking by me! I have been going through my 'Sloth Phase' at home, and haven't been doing anything over the start of summer. I have currently snapped back to reality and realized my FanFic needed sorting. I apologize for being so lazy :)**

**Title:** _Mistress by Mistake_

**Summary:** Edward misjudges Bella, believing she was trying to seduce his wealthy nephew. Edward seems intent on having her himself… but is he only protecting his fortune? Especially as his ex-fiancé seems to clearly want him back… What are Edward's plans? OOC

**Disclaimer:** Sadly, I do not own _Twilight_, in any way, shape or form.

**B****ella's POV**

"We don't have to do this, you know…?" Jasper reminded me, again.

I had taken pity on the teenager, who was already looking like a traditional sacrificial victim. "Kiss? Definitely not," I assured firmly, with a hint of humour.

I'm still not quite sure how exactly my brother had talked me into this. Emmett was certainly a teddy bear on the inside, although he came up with some crazy plans along the way. I felt a tweak of resentful admiration towards my brother, nonetheless.

_It said a lot about my brother's powers of persuasion_, I thought as I took in the sight of Jasper Whitlock and me, perched on the edge of the sofa, in Jasper Whitlock's parents' rather magnificent house. I hadn't actually realised until this point just how wealthy the background of my brother's quiet, earnest friend was.

I seriously doubt the thin piece of black, lacy material, that was barely covering my body **(Image of outfit on Profile)**, was the only piece of designer clothing this sofa had seen in it's time. Looking down at myself, I quickly regretted allowing Alice in on the plan. I had known my friend since forever, and as much as I loved her, I also had a grudge against her love for shopping.

I sighed as realised this is the only piece of designer clothing my body had ever worn. I didn't have enough money to begin with, although I wouldn't choose designer given the choice. I preferred to choose my clothes for comfort rather than style, unlike my two closest friends, Alice and Rosalie.

"How long are your parents away for, Jasper?" I asked, in an attempt to calm the teenage youth, who currently looked as though he wanted to bolt! I summoned up a smile that was supposed to be maternal and comforting. The maternal part wasn't all that hard, due to the fact I am five years older than him. Although in this situation I feel centuries older!

"Mum's book tour of the States lasts another week or so," he said listlessly, "Dad might come back a few days early – business, you know."

_I could do with him walking through that door right now_, I thought, eyeing the wooden panelled entrance with slight hope. On the few occasions I had met Carlisle Whitlock he had seemed a calm, friendly person, who could easily cure his son's problems, without any outside help.

"Lucky them. I wouldn't mind being there now." I sighed. Being anywhere would be an improvement on here. Soft-hearted? I must be soft-headed!

"Mum doesn't like being away from home."

_With this home who can blame her?_ I thought with a tinge of envy. I knew Esme Whitlock well enough to know that she would rather be at home, or restoring a nearby building. Esme always enjoyed spending her time writing her 'decoration tips' book, although she was adamant to leave her beloved house behind on the tour. It took a lot of persuading to get her to leave.

"Not like Uncle Edward. _He's_ been everywhere."

Not _Uncle Edward_! My groan was quickly transformed into a soft grunt of interest, sending Jasper off into his own world. My eyes glazed over slightly as he began to eagerly expand on the theme, his pale features becoming animated as he swiftly warmed to the subject of his hero.

I knew just about everything there was to know about Uncle Edward. Jasper obviously took pride in looking up to his idol. I could easily write a full essay on the man. To me, Uncle Edward sounds like he could have a bad case of arrested development.

I gave a small shudder of distaste, as I mentally tried to conjure up an image of Uncle Edward. Nurtured biceps, athletic stance and an over sized ego. The perfect ingredients for the world's worst role model, especially for a sensitive type of boy like Jasper, who already had a budding inferiority complex about his lack of sporting ability.

"Uncle Edward says…" Jasper suddenly froze midsentence, as I was spared any further worshipping detail about his mother's sibling. "They're coming up the pathway," his eyes the size of saucers fixed, horror-struck, on the view through the window. "I can see them! What'll we do?"

"Right, don't panic," I said, as calmly as possible, as I felt my heart going into overdrive, "Mess up you're hair." My hands automatically pulling the measly black fabric of the too-short dress, farther down my legs.

"What?"

"Like this," I said, rubbing two shaking hands through my own long wavy chestnut hair. "Here, let me," I said, with ill-concealed exasperation. I leant forward and rumpled the teenager's smooth blonde locks. "Put an arm around me, or something; make it look as though we have been… kissing."

Jasper made a couple of vague movements towards me. "I can't I've never…"

_You and I both, mate,_ I thought, managing a small grin. "Don't worry, I'll show you what to do." _A classic case of the blind leading the blind!_

"I just bet you would, sweetheart," The deep, cold voice made me jump violently. "But I don't think Jasper requires instructions from the likes of you."

"Likes of me?" Just what the hell did he mean by that? I turned my glance indignantly towards the direction of the intruder. I didn't have to be particularly inventive to know what sort of things were most likely swimming through his mind.

Jasper's eyes bulged almost to bursting point as he turned to face his Uncle Edward. "I thought you were out" he faltered.

It turned out I had been wrong to exaggerate his uncle's physical attributes. The muscles in the arms that were manhandling me were seriously well developed, and the chest I stumbled against was rock-hard – it was also still damp. Uncle Edward had obviously strolled into the room directly from the shower. One towel was looped, far too casually for my liking, around his slim waist; another was draped over his shoulders. My sensitive nose quivered as I was treated to a heavy dose of a clean, sharp masculine odour.

"One day you'll be glad I wasn't, Jazz." Edward Cullen flicked a quick, wry grin in his nephew's direction before turning back to me. "Sorry, sweetheart." Chocolate eyes; big and soft as a startled fawn's stared back at him, full of confusion and innocence. "But, unlike Jazz, I'm not interested in providing a shoulder for the likes of you."

A flash of anger flickered into my eyes, which Alice and Rosalie had skilfully applied make-up to, creating a more exotic atmosphere. "Though it didn't look like you were having much luck in that direction from what I saw," he recalled with a taunting crooked grin. "Besides, it seems to me like you've got more than enough leg to support yourself." His eyes roaming across the showing flesh of my legs barely covered in fine denier, as he set me on my feet.

Even though the snide, sneering superior of this man made me want to scream, I told myself that anybody could have misread the situation. "This isn't what it seems, Mr Cullen." Calm composure was the best way to defuse this unpleasant situation, I told myself hopefully. _Unpleasant,_ Bella? Who are you kidding, girl? This is on par with nightmares of walking around a supermarket stark naked!

"You know my name?" His emerald green eyes narrowing suspiciously, "You do your research."

Name, shoe size, favourite colour… "Jasper talks about you all the time."

"That gives you the advantage," I honestly found his smile more threatening than any abuse he might have hurled at me. "No, don't tell me your name."

"I wasn't going…" I began hotly. _Advantage! _If I had ever been in a situation that made me feel _less _advantaged I couldn't recall it right now.

The way he had looked at me – as though I was something to eat! I shuddered, and quickly shook my head from side to side as a wave of dizzying fury washed over my last idiotic impulse to apologise. No man had _ever_ looked at me like that before.

This muscle-bound bully wasn't what I'd pictured – he was _worse!_ Right now I really regret allowing Alice the chance to dress me this way. I was finding it impossible to avert my eyes from his pale flesh. His shoulders and deeply muscled chest were extraordinarily wide in proportion to his slim hips. Hips that looked far too lean to stop that towel from obeying the laws of gravity. I doubt if the blushes would be his if the unthinkable happened. The warm, squirmy, unpleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach grew unaccountably more intense, and I swiftly raised the level of my eyes – and thoughts too!

I estimated he was about 6-four or five as I still had to look up at him, even in these ridiculous heels.

If he sneered once more I might just give in to the growing desire to throw an unladylike punch.

"Oh, but you_ are_ going – and _now_." The observation left no room for negotiation.

"Uncle Edward, don't!" Jasper pleaded, discovering his voice as his uncle's hand fell heavily on my shoulder. "You don't understand."

Some of the implacable hardness died from Edward's eyes as he turned towards his nephew's horrified face. "I understand, all right. At best she's a tart with a heart, Jazz – at worst a predatory little bitch who targets boys like you because anyone with a bit of experience can see past the innocent eyes, beautiful face and sexy body." It was obvious from the small curl of his lips as he glanced at me which version he favoured.

_Sexy body!_I was so stunned by his assessment that all that emerged from my lip by way of defence was a strangled croak.

"When I came in it looked like you were having second thoughts. Am I right, Jasper?"

"Yes, but not… she's…" he began, throwing me a horrified look of apology.

"You don't want to learn the stale tricks she can teach you, Jasper. Some day you'll understand that fumbling can be a lot of fun, especially when you're both fumbling."

I, taken aback by the unexpected recommendation, found myself thinking he looked almost human for a second. Was it the memory of a girl he'd fumbled with that brought a quite unexpectedly bleak expression to his eyes? Much more likely it was indigestion, I told myself, and he didn't seem the type to get mushy about past flings.

At that moment, Emmett and his companions, carefully selected for their ability to spread gossip, entered the room. I knew that Emmett didn't have to rely on his acting ability to display shock. "Clear out, you lot," he announced casually.

"What's going on here?" Emmett asked once the room was cleared. I even found myself envying his casual ability to inspire obedience.

"Emmett, isn't it?" Edward Cullen looked at the tall, muscled, dark haired boy with a hint of recognition. "Did you have anything to do with this little unwelcome ceremony?"

"You all right, Bella?" Emmett asked anxiously, ignoring the older man.

"Does it look like I'm all right?" I asked, biting back an unwanted hysterical giggle, "Will you sort this out – _now, _Emmett?" My usually soft voice raised a quavering octave.

"You know this girl, then?" Edward asked, looking between my younger brother and me.

"Of course I know her. She's my sister."

"Do you get your kid brother to pimp for you often, angel?"

I couldn't control myself any longer. Sliding off the painfully tight heels, I decided to let Emmett sort out the situation, and fled the room. Although I knew the tears flowing freely down my cheeks were a display from my fury, I wasn't about to stay and allow him to think otherwise.

**:-o-O-o-:**

The door I had been hammering on for the past five minutes finally swung open. I watched Phil's expression change from initial lack of recognition to open-mouthed shock.

"Say a word and you're dead," I promised venomously, just as the grin was beginning to form. "I forgot my key"

The grin was quickly deleted. "New look, Bells?" He gave an appreciative leer.

"If we're talking make-overs…?" I allowed my eyes to roam over the tall, rangy figure of my lodger. "Do the words 'ageing hippie' strike a cord?" Head high, slender back; I stalked up the stairs trying to ignore the sounds of inexpertly muffled laughter. "I've had a _very_ bad day!" I warned over my shoulder.

The carpet beneath my feet was tired looking and beginning to thread. It wasn't the only thing in the big Victorian house that needed replacing. When my parents died, five years earlier, the first thing the solicitors had suggested was putting the crumbling old building on the market.  
But how could I have taken my thirteen-year-old brother away from the only home he'd ever known? He'd already lost his parents, and moving would have meant changing school too. I'd known there wouldn't be enough money left after the debts were settled to buy another place in the same area. My parents had had many qualities, although money wasn't one of them. I had been fiercely determined that no matter what happened Emmett wouldn't suffer – he'd have all the advantages, minus the loving parents, that I'd had.

When I'd told the solicitors my idea they'd regarded me with the sort of superior scorn that some people use with teenagers.

_Impractical_, they'd said. _Not economically viable_. Well, they'd been wrong. Five years on and Phil was their long-term lodger, and, with a few exceptions, we'd been lucky with the succession of people who'd rented our other two rooms in the Victorian monstrosity, I'd always called home.

Right now we have Angela; a librarian in her early thirties and Ben; an engineering student in his late twenties, as well as Phil, who Emmett and I had known since we were children. I can't actually remember the point in which we had accepted him as extended family.

I had once asked Phil why he stayed, and he'd laughingly told me he was too lazy to move. He'd used to look at property, but he'd stopped pretending some time ago that this was a short-term measure. Recently, Phil had told me that I, and the other residents of 6 Appleton Avenue, filled a gap in Phil's life, where there would have been a wife and children, but for a cruel twist of fate.

The old building ate up any money, of course, so by the end of the day we weren't much better off financially, but we coped. Actually, I am better off financially at the moment than I dared hope, since Emmett had won a prestigious scholarship that was going to ease the financial burden of his three years at university considerably.

"Do something reckless with it, Bells," he'd advised when I'd suggested spending the money I'd been putting aside for his education to replace the leaking roof on the kitchen extension.

"_Reckless"_ I said in disgust to my reflection in the mirror on the old mahogany dressing table. I wiped the back of my hand across my crimson-stained lips._ This is the last time I am allowing my silver-tongued sibling to persuade me into anything!_

I only have myself to blame for being so easily conned. I should have known things were getting out of hand when Alice had produced the expensive designer outfit and suggested I change in the kitchen. I ought to have kicked up a fuss when Rosalie, Emmett's girlfriend, had produced cosmetics from an apparently bottomless make-up bag.  
In fact, if it hadn't been for a miserable-looking Jasper saying, "She doesn't have to do it, Emmett" I might well have chickened out there and then. _Saving myself the most embarrassing, humiliating experience of my life_, I thought, stripping off the borrowed finery.

Slipping on a pair of loose fitting sweats and long-sleeved jumper **(Image of outfit on Profile), **I silently fumed to myself the fury I felt towards the man. _No wonder poor Jasper didn't confide his personal problems to an insensitive brute like that._

"This isn't what it looks like, Mr Cullen," I muttered to myself, out loud. "I still can't believe I said that."

**:-o-O-o-:**

Phil looked up from the steaming pan to which he was adding numerous amounts of a variety of spices.

"Why don't you use the extractor? The whole place reeks of curry." I sighed, pinching my nose.

"_Curry," _Phil repeated with offended dignity. "That word hardly describes the delicate balance of spices in my work of art."

"Fine. The whole place reeks of your 'work of art'." I pulled out one of the mismatched chairs, which were set around the long table in the middle of the room, and slumped dejectedly down.

"Want to tell Uncle Phil all about it?" he suggested.

"About what?"

"Come off it, Isabella" he said bluntly.

I gave a small half-hearted shrug and rested my chin on my arms, which were supported by the comforting solidity of the oak table. "I've never been so humiliated in my life!" I confided, my voice slightly muffled by the soft fabric of my blue striped top. "It was Emmett's fault."

"It would be," he acknowledged, speaking with the authority of someone who hadn't escaped unscathed by Emmett's inventive schemes. "You'll feel better if you talk about it."

Being the sensitive human being, he didn't laugh once as my story spilled out.

"There, I knew it; you think I was stupid!" I lifted my head and tossed a feathery brown curl away from my cheek.

"I think," he soothed, "it was a classic case of bad timing."

"I couldn't refuse, could I?" I asked rhetorically. "Poor Jasper was going through hell at school; he's such a sensitive boy," I said, unable to think of his pale, sensitive features without a gush of maternal anguish.

"So it was this girl – the man-eater who came onto him – that spread the rumour in school about him being gay?" I nodded. "But he's not…"

"Gay? Of course not. The poor boy was petrified by her. Not all seventeen-year-olds are like Emmett." Confidence with the opposite sex was not something that my brother lacked; a fact which had caused me several sleepless nights.

"So Emmett was supposed to arrive with an audience guaranteed to spread the story of all male fantasies; a desirable, mature woman. Overnight his name would be synonymous with stud."

"In a nutshell…" I pressed my fingers to my temples, in a failed attempt to remove the sickening throb of a terrible headache which was developing. "A case of bad casting, I know."

"It's quite clever, really," Phil mused with grudging admiration.

I offered Phil a quick look of dislike, "_Clever! _Pardon me if I don't sound suitably appreciative. I doubt if you would either if you'd been threatened or abused by that disgusting man. Do you know what he called me?" I demanded, my voice quivering with outrage. "A predatory, grasping little tart who couldn't handle real men."

"Ouch."

"Ouch; is that all you can say?"

"Well, I suppose it must have been a bit of a shock for the guy, finding his nephew in the clutches of a…" He came to an abrupt halt and cast me an apologetic lop-sided smile. "That outfit did make you look pretty… well let's just say you looked the part. Not a tart, you understand," he added hastily, "just…"

"You're digging yourself a very deep hole, Phil," I pointed out, secretly glad that I wasn't the only person suffering from foot-in-the-mouth syndrome. "He very obviously thought I was a tart. I suppose you think I should be flattered."

Phil didn't bother responding to that challenge, "Didn't you explain? Didn't the boy put him straight?"

"What chance did I have? I couldn't get a word in edge-wise." Phil looked sceptical as I grated my teeth, at a loss to explain to someone who knew me how I felt like a witless zombie from the sheer trauma of the situation. "Plus the fact," I continued, "Nick and his cronies rolled up about thirty seconds after Edward Cullen put in an appearance. It was a circus. As for Jasper, he obviously thinks the man can walk on water," I spat in disgust.

When Edward Cullen had entered the room I'd thought, for one awful moment, his nephew was going to pass out. I'd almost envied him; at the time losing consciousness had had a distinct appeal.

"Talk about macho man!" I added scornfully. "And I'm positive he's just the type to encourage Jasper's hero-worship. Having a young boy thinking he's a cross between James Bond and Mother Teresa is just the sort of ego stroking he would enjoy. He's the typical product of an over-privileged background; you know the type. He's got that unshakeable sense of his own superiority."

Phil let out a long, slow whistle. "And how many products of an over-privileged background do you know on a first-name basis, Bella? You sound as if you're addressing a political rally."

I felt my cheeks warm up with the familiar red glow. "You had to be there," I said defensively.

"This bloke's really got to you hasn't he? You really shouldn't jump to conclusions, Bells. I thought you were the one down on people who generalised," he reminded me. "It's not like you actually know the man."

Once again, my cheeks flushed a deep shade of red at his tone. "True, I don't know him. So things could be worse," I agreed reluctantly.

"God, I wish I had been there; as an observer, of course. Come on, Bells!" he chided. "This isn't like you. Where's your sense of humour? I don't doubt Emmett's sorting things out right now. You'll all laugh about it later."

I stared at him. _Laugh! _It was obvious that Phil failed to appreciate that Edward Cullen was a person totally without redeeming features.

"I hope that _all _doesn't include Uncle Edward. Because I can't conceive of a situation where I'd go within ten miles of the man, let alone share cosy laughter!"

"Talking about Emmett; where'd he get to?" Phil asked, swiftly changing subject.

"He's big enough to look after himself," I responded grumpily. Nonetheless, I glanced anxiously at the clock. I didn't doubt he'd manage to talk his way out of this, as he did in every other difficult situation he'd found himself in his short life; but even so…

"Talk of the devil. That sounds like dear Emmett now." At the sound of the door slamming shut, Phil raised his head from his cooking. "Follow your nose, Em, we're in the kitchen," he yelled. "Well, well, who's been a—Holy fish sticks, Emmett. What happened to you?" Dropping his wooden spoon, a look of pure concern on his face, Phil hurried past me.

I suddenly forgot about the cold disdain I was going to dish out to my brother and spun around in my seat. With a gasp of horror I too was on my feet.

Emmett held out his hands as if to ward us off. "It's worse than it looks," he warned them hastily. The swollen split lip made his voice slightly slurred. "No, Bella, don't touch… ouch!"

"Ice…" I said firmly.

"Rosalie's already put ice on it."

"It looks terrible!" I said, subconsciously registering the fact that he turned to his girlfriend first, rather than me. I didn't dwell on it for too long, my mind fixed only on Emmett's health.

"Thanks."

"Have you had it checked out in Casualty?"

"Don't fuss, Bells, it's only a bloody nose and a split lip. I'll be my usual beautiful self by next week. Besides, I thought you'd be pleased. Just deserts and all that…" he suggested slyly.

I exhaled a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding and relaxed a little now that I could see the damage was actually quite superficial. "If I was a spiteful person…" I only half teased.

"You're mad with me?" he asked flashing me his normal winning grin, causing him to wince. I grimaced in sympathy.

"What do you think?"

"I think you're not ready to see the funny side yet."

"How intuitive of you. But, first things first, how did you do that?" I asked, my gesture vaguely covering the swollen, discoloured area of his mouth and evidence of a bloody nose.

"It's a bit embarrassing, really," he admitted, looking sheepish. "If you'd hung around another thirty seconds you'd have seen yourself. You know how I always say words are more effective than fists? Well, I've come to the conclusion that; that was a very mature statement. Problem is, I wasn't feeling too mature when he… when he said…" He glanced at Phil, his cheeks reddening a little. "That crack about you, Bells," he finished uncomfortably. "I just saw red." His confession was accompanied by a lot of foot-shuffling and shoulder-shrugging.

I froze and went dramatically pale. "Are you telling me," I said slowly, "that _he_ did this to you?" I asked, a wave of fury clogging my brain.

"That wouldn't be so embarrassing. The damned man moves fast for a big bloke," Emmett admitted, his voice tinged with admiration. "I didn't get to lay a finger on him, I went charging straight past him, tripped over some damn table and straight into some bloody great clock thing. In keeping with the general theme of disaster, it turned out to be an antique family heirloom sort of thing."

This minor technicality that Uncle Edward hadn't actually laid hands on Emmett passed over my head. My brother was injured, and the damage was directly attributable to Edward Cullen.

"That's it!" Insult me and he might get away with it, but cause my baby brother harm and there was no way he was going to escape scot-free!

"What do you think you're doing, Bella?" My brother asked in alarm as I scrabbled through the small pile of keys positioned on the big old fashioned dresser.

"I'm going to tell Mr Edward Cullen exactly what I think of him, that's what I'm doing. Where are your car keys, Phil?" I continued, ignoring my brother's groans of dismay.

"Don't give them to her, Phil," Emmett pleaded. "I don't need big sister rushing to the rescue. Tell her, Phil. I just talked the big guy around. The last thing I need is you turning up screaming abuse."

"I've no intention of screaming, and I'm not doing this for you." That was true, at least in part. It had really gotten under my skin that I'd been reduced to some sort of compliant moron earlier. "I'm doing this for humanity in general. That man needs pulling down a peg or two!"_ Why the hell didn't I stand up for myself when I had the chance? _I wondered, seething in frustration.

"I'm not telling her anything." I flashed my brother a smug grin, which faded as Phil snatched the discovered keys from my hand. "But neither am I letting you use my car, Bells. Not until you've cooled down."

"But you know my truck's at the garage until tomorrow, Phil" I wailed reproachfully.

"Then wait until then."

"How can you say that?" I spluttered, "Look at Em!"

"Emmett's already explained the man didn't lay a finger on him."

"Emmett was defending me!" Because I chickened out when the going got tough, I thought with a wave of self-disgust.

"If you're honest, Bells, you're just using this as an excuse because you're itching for a fight."

"No such thing," I denied hotly, without meeting his eyes.

"You're mad because you ran away without defending yourself. Or maybe," he said with an abrupt change of tactics, "it's a sexual chemistry thing between you and Uncle Edward." He looked at me with innocent enquiry. "That could explain all this hostility." He exchanged a quick grin with Emmett.

"So could being verbally and physically abused," I replied frigidly.

"The guy certainly has muscles in all the right places," Emmett agreed solemnly.

"I didn't notice."

My brother laughed out loud at this one. "Maybe you're going back for another look."

A sharp image of his pale masculine body rose up in my mind, adding to the insult to the injury of my brother's warped humour. A girl didn't go through life without seeing images of male perfection, and Edward Cullen had to fall into that category, but none of those images had assaulted my senses with a raw, earthy sexuality. Of course not. None of them had ever grabbed hold of me whilst half naked, I told myself crossly.

"It's nice to know who your friends are." I treated them both to my best display of icy dignity, as I stalked out of the room, although I could still hear their muffled talking behind me.

"I don't think she appreciated the joke," Emmett surmised. "You don't think she really…?" He asked the older man beside him. "Nah," he said shaking his head.

"Maybe the walk will cool her down?"

"Do you think so?" Emmett asked sceptically.

"Not really. I was trying to cheer you up."

**:-o-O-o-:**

**A/N: So? What did you think? Tell me in a review! Please!  
Also in your review answer this question and I will give you brownies!**

**Question: What is the most embarrassing/weirdest dare you have ever been given?**

**LittleTwilightManiac xx**

**P.S. All images of outfits on profile!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, I certainly didn't expect that kind of reaction! Thank you guys! I wasn't planning on updating until next weekend but because all of the reviews were telling me to update soon, I thought 'Oh, what the hey!' So, here you go; Chapter Two!**

**In Advance: **I'm really sorry for any mistakes, I didn't have time to double check it because I really wanted to update.****

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight_ related.

**BPOV**

My cheeks are tinged pink with exhaustion after ten minutes of furious pedalling. Serve Emmett right if he thought his bike had been stolen. How many times had I told him to chain it up?

Actually, I was forced to admit to myself the true feeling of an adrenaline rush as I was the one acting recklessly for once. _It really is quite an exciting feeling,_ I decided as I ran my fingers through my windswept hair.

I propped Emmett's bike against the gleaming paintwork of a shiny silver Volvo, and walked purposefully up to the awaiting entrance.

The door was slightly ajar, and I experienced my first twinge of apprehension as I rang the bell. My nerves were working in overdrive as my mouth formed a steely line and my shoulders squared, mentally replaying my earlier departure.

I would show Uncle Edward I wasn't the sort of girl he could push around, the sort of girl who ran away meekly, the sort of girl who was reduced to nothing by a pair of bulging biceps and a few harsh words!

"Come on through!" A disembodied voice instructed.

Startled, I looked over my shoulder; half expecting to find someone else those words were directed at standing there.

"Through here!" Impatience leaked into his voice this time.

_You heard what the man said, Bells. Don't just stand there, girl!_ I hadn't quite expected it to be quite this easy to get back into the Whitlock residence.

"It's the card table by the door. Can you do it _in situ_, or will you need to take it away? If that's the case I need it back by Thursday at the latest."

Somehow the top of his head still managed to convey harassment. When his head finally lifted, his expression stayed the same. His hands were still immersed in a bucketful of soapy water as he spoke. "Well?"

"You don't recognise me, do you?"

"Should I?" he began impatiently, pushing aside a stray lock of bronze hair that had flopped in his eyes. "You're not the French Polisher? Dear God!" he breathed, his eyes widening in recognition. "It's the _femme fatale_. Not looking very _femme_ or _fatale_," he added unkindly, getting to his feet and rubbing his wet hands against the legs of his jeans.

Raised eyebrows, I watched as he took in my appearance, a simple stripy top and sleeveless black jacket. The loose lines of my black pants blurred the outline on my long legs and the flat, practical pumps were about as far removed from the strappy heels I'd worn earlier as was possible. The only evidence of the make-up I had worn earlier was a slight dark smudging of grey kohl around my eyes. **(Image of outfit on Profile)**

_Is this display of masculine bad manners meant to make me feel uncomfortable? Dream on_, I thought scornfully. Lips pursed, I deliberately mimicked his action and let my eyes, rather obviously, roam over his body. I didn't actually hold much hope of finding anything to criticize – I was right.

He was wearing a light-coloured cotton shirt, not tucked into the waist of his jeans. His wet hands had left dark marks on the paler material which outlined his thighs, which I already know were powerfully muscular **(Image of outfit on Profile)**. I noticed two wet marks where he'd been kneeling on the floor. He was the sort of man who looked good in any clothes, I reflected, but better without them. Just when my confidence was riding high this random thought sent a flurry of panic zinging along my nerve-endings.

To my surprise, as my flustered glance returned to his face, his expression wore amused appreciation of my actions. After a couple of deep breaths I was able to dismiss my embarrassing observation as stress. Stress did things like play havoc with your concentration; I comforted myself with this widely accepted fact.

"What do you want?"

"You can ask that?"

"Oh, you've come to apologise…sorry, I still don't know your name."

_Apologise! _My eyes widened. _The cheek of the man! _"I was under the impression that you didn't want to know my name."

He didn't even bother pretending not to understand me. "Earlier I was trying to dispel – shall we say, any sense of intimacy."

Not even a shred of embarrassment, I decided, searching his face. The man was totally shameless. Emmett hadn't gone into details – well, actually, I didn't really give him chance – but this man must know by now I was innocent of sinister intentions towards his nephew.

"Tell me, are you planning to use that?"

"What…? Oh." I followed the direction his head nodded towards and instantly turned a bright shade of red as I saw the trowel I was brandishing in my hand. "I didn't realise…it was in my pocket," I mumbled in slight explanation.

"Got anything else muddy and lethal I should know about in there?" he asked, sounding insultingly amused as I shoved the tool back into the warmth of my jacket pocket.

"Not muddy. I'm a gardener – a landscape gardener – freelance." 'Freelance' sounded more impressive than 'worried about where my next job is coming from'; besides, things aren't really like that any more.

After my parents had died I'd had to scale down my plans for the future appropriately. Starting my own garden maintenance business had been the next best thing from the degree in landscape architecture I'd planned, but what had started out as a little hedge-trimming and lawn-mowing had gradually led to better things.

I knew the turning point had been the roof garden I'd created for Jacob Black the previous year. He'd been delighted with the results and generous with his praise. And Jacob had a lot of upwardly mobile young friends who were keen to employ my services.

"You sound very intense about it," Edward remarked.

"Why shouldn't I be?" I countered. "Aren't you intense about your work? Is it only the financial wizards in banks who juggle millions who are allowed to take their work seriously?"_ It was easy to be a big cheese when Daddy Cullen owned the bank_, I thought scornfully. _How well would he have done if he had to fight his way up the ladder?_

"My, my, Jazz _has _been talking, hasn't he?" Edward mused. "But point taken."

"I'll tell you what I do take seriously, shall I, Mr Cullen?"

His only visible response to my aggressive tone of voice and scornful glance was a quick quirk of his eyebrow. "Feel free, Miss…"

Well, didn't I make a big impression? He doesn't even remember my name! "I take people assaulting my brother seriously."

"Assault! You've got to be kidding, lady! What the hell is your name anyway?"

I was pleased to see his air of vague amusement had vanished. He sounded extremely irritable.

"Bella Swan."

"Well, Bella Swan, I didn't lay a finger on your brother. But if I can't get his blood out of my sister's carpet I might just oblige you." He gave the bucket at his feet a frustrated kick, and some of the sudsy water splashed onto his trainers.

All he was bothered about was blood on his rotten carpet, when poor Emmie might have been scarred for life or bled to death! "You should have left well alone and got it professionally cleaned."

Edward gave me an unfriendly look. "I had enough trouble finding a French Polisher who'd come straight out and repair the damage your young thug did to the table."

"I'll tell him you were asking after his health. He'll be so touched by the concern."

Edward's lips tightened at my dose of sarcasm. "He looked fine when he left here."

"I doubt that very much," I snorted. "I don't suppose it occurred to you to take him to the hospital. I call it the height of negligence to let an injured boy walk out of here in that state."

"He didn't walk. A pretty girl picked him up."

That sounded about right, I grudgingly conceded. Pretty girls were always picking Emmett up. I suspect pretty girls would be running around after him most of his life. In that respect he probably had quite a lot in common with this man.

"Rosalie," I said, not looking surprised by this information.

"If you say so. She was the hysterical type too," he said dismissively.

"Meaning she couldn't look at the mess you'd made of Emmett without displaying some emotion?" I sighed.

"I thought I'd already told you I didn't touch your brother. _I _was the victim of the assault. A fact you appear to be conveniently forgetting. What was I supposed to do? Stand there and let him bash my brains in?"

"One look at you and a person can see straight off how savagely you've been bashed," I observed scornfully, looking at his perfect profile with a raised eyebrow.

"Lightning reflexes," he agreed. "But come back after my sister sees I've managed to let her house get trashed," he suggested drily. "And if she even _suspects_ I've allowed her son's morals to be tainted…"

I was unaware that I was chewing my lip as I met his taunting look with a belligerently stubborn one of my own. My blushes were held in check by sheer willpower. "Not by me." I probably couldn't taint a moral if I tried, I pondered gloomily – and at twenty-four that was an indictment.

Edward shrugged, giving me the distinct impression that it was of no interest to him. "Let's just say it'll take more than reflexes to save me then." He shook the excess moisture off his hands with an expression of distaste. "When I agreed to keep an eye on Jazz I wasn't expecting any of this."

"Perhaps," I muttered, "if you spent more time listening to Jasper and less time talking about yourself, _this_ might have been avoided."

"_Meaning?"_

"I'm sure Jasper makes a very good audience," I remarked, my eyes opening to their widest and most guileless. "He is very young and easily impressed. We get to hear all about your exploits – second hand, of course, but it brightens up our dull existence no end to hear how the other half live."

"You'd know all about bringing up a teenager, I suppose?"

"If that's meant to be some sort of criticism of Emmett…" I began hotly. "I just won't have it!" I declared passionately. "I'm not saying his idea was a good one; but his hearts in the right place. He wouldn't have tried to hit you if you hadn't insulted me. I may not be a perfect parent-figure, but I'm proud of Em, and I won't have some…some male bimbo criticise him!"

Edward didn't try to hide the complete shock written on his face, as he swallowed down the idea of me raising a teenager.

"Are you trying to say you're your brother's keeper – in the legal sense?" he asked incredulously.

I had come across this response before. There had been a lot of people who had thought that I was ruining my life taking on the responsibilities of a young boy, when I was only just nineteen, myself. Opposition had made me all the more determined to keep our family intact.

"Until he's eighteen," I confirmed, my whole stance saying, _Want to make something of it? _"Which is next week, as it happens – the same day as Jasper."

"No wonder you're weird," he breathed, half to himself. "I've only been responsible for Jazz for weeks, not years, and I'm already feeling ready for the funny farm."

An unscrupulous tart and now weird; charming! "It's nice to meet someone who doesn't mince his words," I observed insincerely. "As it happens I've found it an extremely rewarding experience watching Emmett mature into a warm, caring young man." My mouth curved into a disdainful bow as I deleted all of the low points. "A wise man knows his limitations, and there's nothing wrong at all with being self-centred. I'm sure you're extremely wise to avoid responsibilities."

Edward extended his neck and allowed his head to roll back in a relaxed, sleepy way. I began to think my provocative words had been too much for the pea brain to take in; until I saw the steely expression in his half-closed eyes as he looked down at me. I swallowed, hard.

"Wisdom." He considered the word slowly, as it rolled off his tongue.

It gave me time to give his mouth a detailed examination. Unlike my own, it was perfectly proportioned. I came to the conclusion that there was something quite cruel about his thin upper lip, and there was a disturbing sensuality to the full lower curve. An unexpected tingle of excitement bubbled through my veins and my heart-rate picked up tempo in response.

"Is that the same sort of wisdom you displayed when you decided to play the sultry temptress? A snogging session on the sofa with a schoolboy?" He asked, throwing me a look of rapt interest. "I suppose it's possible," he prompted, "that you like them young. Some women do. Or were you living out your naughty fantasies? Then again I might be barking up the wrong tree completely. Do your tastes run in the entirely opposite direction?" he looked thoughtfully at my shoes.

My cheeks felt the all too familiar warmth return as I caught the drift of his accusations. "I was not…not…"

"Snogging?" he prompted helpfully.

"It's not men I don't like. Just you!" I felt my nostrils flare slightly as I looked at him with loathing. "As for kissing…I didn't…I wouldn't!" I spluttered furiously.

"I thought it was Jasper who wouldn't." A breath escaped from between my clenched teeth in a noisy gasp. His smile was almost like a gentle pat on the head. "Probably afraid of being eaten alive. That was some outfit." He continued. "Don't take the rejection too much to heart. Your average _adolescent_ would have leapt at the chance – and leapt at you too," he added thoughtfully.

"Meaning a proper man would have more sense?"

"Sensitive nerve?" he suggested with a maliciously sympathetic smile. "Sorry."

"You know where you can stick your apology!" I hissed.

"I can imagine," he responded hurriedly. "But don't get anatomical, I beg you; I have a very delicate stomach."

_Delicate!_ I silently raged. _Do me a favour; he's about as sensitive as a brick!_

"Poor Jazz has been going through hell at school," I told him passionately. I was too angry to even self-consciously register the fact his handsome features were filled with self-recrimination momentarily. "Kids can be incredibly cruel. Can't you remember what it was like to be singled out as different?" My dark eyes quickly swept over him; from the tip of his smooth bronze hair down to his feet. "No, I don't suppose _you_ can. I was only trying to help."

"Save me from fool women with good intentions!" he remarked. "Alas, I can't wheel out a dysfunctional family, even though I can see the fact my parents are kind, loving, well-balanced…and yes, rich individuals ruins my credibility in your eyes."

"They must be wondering where they went wrong with you."

"You really can't stop with the cheap wisecracks, can you? Dear God, I wouldn't give you custody of my cat, let alone a child! Didn't it occur to you to tell me before you embarked on your crazy scheme?"

"It wasn't my…" I began, before quickly realising I was about to lay the blame at my brother's door.

"Jazz made us swear not to. He didn't want his fantastic Uncle Edward to think he was a wimp. Tell me, what does it feel like to be a role model?"

A dull red ran up Edward's neck and instantly covered his face.

"So you decided you were better qualified to deal with this problem than, say, his parents, or guardian, or head-teacher? Isn't there anyone who can put the brake on your wild ideas? What did your partner think of the scheme? Or didn't you tell him? I take it he _is_ a he?"

I knew in that second I'd rather die than admit my single state, but under the mocking glare of those hateful, knowing eyes things looked very different.

"Very much so. Phil is very supportive of anything I do." It sounded so smooth I was quite impressed with myself.

_Please __forgive me, Phil,_ I thought, hoping I didn't look as guilty as I felt. _He wouldn't mind me using his name in a good cause_, I told myself. Question was; would he think scoring points off Edward Cullen a good idea?

"Meaning you walk all over him in your Converse trainers." He lifted an eyebrow as he gazed at my shoes. "Poor guy."

"He doesn't need your sympathy!" I ground my even white teeth silently.

"No, he needs therapy." He looked pointedly at my clenched fists and shook his head. "A family trait, I see. There was some point was there, to you barging in here, Miss Swan?"

Good question, Bella. What _are_ you doing here? Other than coming second in this battle of words, that is.

"I did not barge in; I was invited." Pity Emmett _hadn't_ landed him a punch, I thought wistfully.

"I won't make that mistake twice," he assured me.

"I _was _hoping you'd display some remorse for causing Em's injuries and for treating me so appallingly. We all know your hands and feet are lethal weapons. You didn't need to beat up a teenager to prove it."

"Past tense, I see…you've decided my character's as dark as your hair, I suppose?"

On impulse he leant forward to flick a feathery end of one chestnut curl that lay against my temple. My body stiffened as his silky touch sent shivers down my spine. I leapt back as though he'd struck me.

"Don't touch me!" I breathed, shaking my head to dispel the warm muzzy sensation that filled my brain. The messages whizzing around my head seemed to be having trouble connecting.

Edward Cullen held his hands up in mock surrender. "Sounds like the best advice I've had all day." He responded. "Tell me, do you always act like something out of a Victorian melodrama? It must get exhausting living with you."

I chewed down hard on my full under-lip, well aware that my instinctive response had been way over the top. "I think it's perfectly legitimate for me to be nervous after you manhandled me earlier."

"I was as gentle as a lamb. Remarkable restrained, actually."

"_Really?"_ I said scornfully. I lifted both hands and let the sleeves of my thin top fall back. "Pardon my scepticism." The faint blue discolouration made by his fingertips showed clearly on the pale skin of my wrists.

His vivid green eyes deepened abruptly to darker shade, and a deep line appeared between his brows. "I didn't do that." His voice held an edge of horror as he eyed my mangled arms.

The impact my display had made surprised me. I had expected some slick, sarcastic retort. "No? Let you mind slip back a few hours. You were hauling me about like a sack of coal."

"God, I'm really sorry. I had no idea. He reached out and firmly took my hands. I searched his face curiously and only saw genuine concern. This wasn't just a line he was shooting me, I realised. He really was sorry. "Dear God, you must be fragile. I can only say it was unintentional."

My slim build hid a wiry strength, not on par with his, but nonetheless I was no delicate flower. I didn't bother pointing this out. The constriction in my throat made it hard to point anything out.

This time I didn't recoil. That strange slow motion thing was happening again, and I didn't have the will or desire to fight it. I let myself go with the flow. Edward turned my arms slowly over and back again, examining the blue-veined inner area of my forearms. His own hands were nicely shaped; big, capable hands, with long, tapering fingers.

"There's no need to make a fuss about it," I began, trying to put some emphasis into my husky-sounding voice. I could see the faint lines, which time would slowly etch deeper, radiating from the corners of his eyes. Letting my flickering, wary gaze dwell on the deep emerald warmth of his green eyes made me feel slightly dizzy. On the whole, I felt a lot better when those eyes had been icy chips. A man holding your hands should have no affect whatsoever on the stability of your knees; Edward Cullen, on the other hand…

He'd had enough time to make a map of the area by now! The soft contact was incredibly irritating to my vulnerable nerve-endings. Nobody would have guessed from the activity of my heart that I was in the peak of physical condition. My said wayward organ was pumping at an unimaginable rate, and my breath was coming out in short gasps.

What did he think he was doing anyhow? Running fingers, that had never seen an honest days work in their lives, over my skin. I'd had some very uncomfortable interviews with bankers in my time. More important, what was I doing letting him?

"It's nothing…I bruise easily. I only told you to make you feel guilty." I didn't add that I hadn't expected to succeed.

"You smell…" His voice was kind of distracted, and when he lifted his head from his prolonged observation I saw his emerald eyes were still burning with a worrying light. I thought it wise not to dwell too long on those hot, hungry eyes.

"I'm sorry my personal hygiene doesn't meet with your approval." I dug around and from somewhere managed to find slight sarcasm.

"Nice," he growled. "You smell nice. I don't recognise the perfume." Without actually touching me he inclined his head to breathe in the fragrance of my hair. The sudden urgency bothered him; annoyed him. And it showed in the downturn of his lips.

"It's soap. Probably the medicated on I bought for Emmett's acne," I elaborated. Flat-out panic felt like a heartbeat away. Had someone turned up the thermostat in the room? I couldn't breathe properly.

"Acne," Edward echoed flatly. His thumb had moved to the delicate hollow of my left elbow; the circular motion sent a tingling down to my curling toes.

"Teenage complaint: from which you were no doubt immune." This person was invading my personal space. I ought to be sending out some clear signals that read _'Get off!'_ loud and clear. Instead, what was I doing? Probably acting like every other female this man had ever touched; a compliant push-over.

"It isn't a subject that springs immediately to mind when I'm responding, although reluctantly, to a mutual chemical attraction."

Not him too! Chemical…chemistry…they'd all gone stark staring bonkers. My eyes narrowed. I hadn't missed the 'reluctant' bit either. Aren't I up to his usual standard?

"I'd worry about the chemical reaction going on under your feet if I were you." He cursed quietly as he followed my gaze towards the stained carpet. "I told you, you should have got a professional cleaner," I reminded him, cheerfully, as I rubbed my toe against the newly bleached area underfoot. Things had got a bit silly, but I was in control again now, I decided with a relieved sigh.

He lifted his head and caught the tail-end of my surreptitious grin. "Maybe you won't be laughing so much when I send you the bill?"

I hoped this was an empty threat, because my tight budget wasn't up to surprises like that. "Does this mean you don't love me after all?" I pouted, giving a passable impression of a rejected lover. _He was obviously one of those men who tried it on with any female that had a pulse_, I thought with disgust.

Actually, I'd never been ignored; I'd done a bit of minor rejecting myself – there had been that Jacob Black, with the roof garden, who'd wanted to get closer, and one or two others, but none had lit any answering spark in me.

"It's possible I might be able to give you up without aversion therapy."

"I'll try to be stoical about it," I promised evenly.

"I'll always cherish our time together."

_Sarcastic pig!_"How fortunate you are to possess a shallow and superficial nature," I said sunnily. I suddenly wished I was still wearing the feminine armoury from earlier. For some reason I felt it would have made it a lot easier to smile in the face of this masterly put-down if I'd known I looked feminine and… well… sexy. "For an awful moment I thought I might have to fight of your advances," I confessed.

His white even teeth clamped together in a snarl-like smile. "If those are the signals you send out when the options you're considering are fight or flight you could have serious problems," he told me drily.

"I hope you're not suggesting I wanted you to kiss me!" I yelled. The smug smile made me want to stamp my feet in childish frustration. "You're delusional and even more in love with yourself than I thought!"

Head on one side, he observed my pink, flushed cheeks and heaving bosom thoughtfully. "Are you trying to goad me into kissing you?"

My mouth opened and closed soundlessly several times; slightly resembling a fish. "Are you…_mad_? I squeaked hoarsely.

"I'm not going to kiss you into submission, you know," he informed me apologetically. "Don't get me wrong; I can see the appeal. If only," he observed, half to himself, "to get you to shut up. You're just not really my type."

"You're pathetic," I grated incredulously. "Do you actually think that every female you meet fantasies about being swept up in your strong arms?"

"This is what I was worried about," he said sadly. "You just want more than I can give. I wanted to save you this hurt and humiliation."

Now I knew for sure he was winding me up, having a good laugh at my expense. He must have noticed I'd been shaking feverishly when he'd taken my hands. He obviously found the whole idea of my finding him attractive hilarious.

"You're very considerate." I'd had enough of being the live entertainment. It really went against the grain to retreat, but I could do it with dignity at least. "I'm going home now. I hope for Jasper's sake his parent's aren't going to be away much longer."

**EPOV**

I smiled wryly. Instinctively, I'd known she was the sort of female who had to have the last word. I listened for the inevitable crash of the front door before I sat down in one of the luxuriously upholstered chairs. I couldn't help wondering what it would have been like if I'd actually kissed that strident, volatile young woman.

The entrance of my nephew halted the erotic nature of my thoughts.

"Have a seat, Jazz. I think we need to talk."

"Again?"

"Again. Now, just what exactly have you told Emmett and his peculiar relations about me?"

"Not much."

"And does that 'not much' include the Jessie saga?"

"No! I wouldn't tell _anyone_ about that, Uncle Edward."

**:-o-O-o-:**

**A/N: ****Well, there you have it; Chapter Two!**

**Review and tell me what you think. Please, reviews ma****ke me update faster, seriously!**

**Next chapter: Learn about the 'Jessie saga'.**

**If you answer the question you get ice-cream. (Flavour of your choice****)**

**Question: What's the most embarrassing thing you have said/done whilst trying to impress somebody?**

**LittleTwilightManiac xx**

**P.S. 10 reviews and I will update this week. Honestly :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Well, we didn't reach the target. I got 11 reviews for the first chapter yet only 6 for the second. I'm really glad those few people enjoyed it though. Thank you for all of your kind words.**

**Dedication: **I dedicate this chapter to: Yami416. Your kind words brought a smile to my face. Thank you.

**Disclaimer:** Do I look like Stephenie Meyer? I'm not that awesome!

**BPOV**

A blast of warm air hit me as I entered the scullery. I was physically tired, but happy. At times like this I was conscious of how few people enjoyed their work as much as I did, and I felt very fortunate as the weary glow of well-being enfolded me.

To my surprise a somewhat breathless daughter of the house appeared in the doorway, so swiftly it was obvious she must have been hovering close by. Her face fell ludicrously when she spotted me.

"Oh, I thought… I thought you were someone else." The glossy auburn hair surrounding her flower-like face swung like a silky bell as she shook her head self-consciously.

Someone important enough to make this beautiful, sophisticated woman behave like a breathless teenager must be quite someone, I reflected as I rubbed my frozen fingertips together. They began to tingle as my sluggish circulation heated up.

"Your mother asked me to stop by for a cup of tea when I'd finished, Mrs Newton," I explained apologetically. Beyond the adjoining door to the kitchen I could hear muffled sounds of activity.

"I did indeed." Mrs Stanley, dressed with impeccable elegance in a soft cream blouse and black tie skirt, entered the room behind her daughter. **(Image of outfit on Profile) **"Take a seat, Bella, my dear. You know Jessica, don't you?"

I nodded politely. As I hadn't been invited into the kitchen I didn't bother removing my shoes. I'd been briefly introduced to the elegant woman when Jessica had arrived from the airport the previous evening, her slender body encased in a knee-length silver fur coat making her flowing hair seemingly shinier.

I had been left with an impression of style, gloss and cut-glass beauty. I doubted if I'd left any impression at all on the other woman.

Right now Jessica Newton seemed on edge and brittle, but the edge of vulnerability didn't detract from her fragile, classically perfect beauty.

"Mummy tells me you've been restoring the knot garden. It must be a bit cold at the moment to be working outdoors." She glanced out of the window at the frost-covered garden and shuddered.

She reminded me of a delicate hothouse orchid that would shrivel up in the Arctic conditions that were sweeping the country, making this the coldest January in living memory.

"Jessica has been living in California; she's forgotten what a proper winter is like," Mrs Stanley smiled at me before turning back to her daughter. "Don't you fret, Isabella here is very sturdy, but actually she's been doing some work on the greenhouses for us today."

I tried and failed to look on 'sturdy' as a compliment. Compared with the diminutive creature dressed entirely in black; black wrap-around dress, black heeled boots and various items of dark jewellery, which did marvellous things for her translucent complexion, I felt like an ungainly giant.** (Image of outfit and coat on Profile)**

"California. That sounds exciting. Will you be visiting for long?" I asked, receiving my steamy mug with a smile of thanks.

Jessica glanced at her mother quickly and lowered her eyes, a mysterious smile playing about her crimson lips. "Possibly," she said enigmatically. "Will you excuse…?" She drifted ethereally from the room.

"She's a bit on edge," Mrs Stanley confided. "I've arranged a little luncheon party."

"I was just going," I said, taking the hint.

"No, there's no need for you to hurry."

I settled back down, even though my schedule was tight. Mrs Stanley was a woman with a lot of time on her hands, who liked to chat, and I, a good listener, usually obliged.

"Actually, it's rather awkward. Jessica used to be engaged to the young man we're expecting. It was a couple of years ago now, but she's not actually seen him since… well, actually… she walked out at the last minute, just before the wedding."

"You mean she jilted him?" I gasped, goggle-eyed. "I mean, I'm sure she had her reasons," I added hastily as I saw the maternal hackles visibly rise.

Mrs Stanley looked mollified. "Actually…" She gave a rueful sigh. "She didn't actually tell us why, but everyone knew it must have been something very bad to make her act so out of character. They'd been a couple on and off since schooldays, you see – inseparable. She ran off to America and married Mike Newton eventually; he's very rich, of course," she added.

I wondered whether this was some sort of justification. Had the old boyfriend been struggling and poor? I felt my romantic side warm to the idea, seeing in my mind this poor unfortunate as impecunious, but sensitive. I found myself hoping he'd found true love elsewhere, and wouldn't need the fickle affections of Jessica Newton.

Expensive perfume wafted over me as Mrs Stanley bent forward, "There's to be a divorce," she hissed. "Her father and I are devastated."

I didn't know how to respond to these confidences. "Very sad," I said neutrally.

Was this a case of 'off with the old, on with the older'? Was Jessica trying to get back together with her ex-flame? Considering the way she'd rushed into the room when she'd heard the door open it seemed she was very anxious to see her old boyfriend. She must be pretty sure of her own irresistibility if she thought he'd be willing to overlook being left standing at the altar.

"Of course we'd be delighted if she decided to move back to this country. Perhaps it's selfish, but she's our only child." She looked thoughtful. "It would be perfect if she and…" She shook her head and smiled; apparently aware she was on the verge of being indiscreet. "But I mustn't ramble on, my dear."

I accepted my cue and got to my feet. "Thanks for the tea. I'll see you next week," I said briskly. "And I hope your lunch goes well."

"What a sweet girl you are."

**:-o-O-o-:**

The silver Volvo had just pulled up on the driveway as I reached my truck. "Blast and damnation," the _sweet girl_ muttered as I saw the driver had effectively blocked me in.

At least, I reflected with a guilty grin as I walked over to the driver's side of the other vehicle, I'll be able to satisfy my curiosity and see what the old flame looks like. Compared to me, people do seem to lead very dramatic lives, I thought with a grin.

"Sorry," I said leaning forward to a window which swished silently open as I approached. "Could you back up a little? I can't get out. Good God!" I vociferated as the driver's face came into view. "_You're_ the one she jilted!" Cross off; 'impecunious' and 'sensitive'!

"It is my one claim to fame," Edward Cullen agreed drily.

Suddenly I found myself wondering how I looked. I knew the frosty wind had turned the tip of my nose pink, although the rest of my face glowed healthily. I looked down at my long legs, clad today in faded and quite snug-fitting jeans, my torso covered by an oversized tunic.** (Image of outfit on Profile)**

My inspection stopped short as I realised the horror of the words which had leapt from my unruly tongue. My saucer-like eyes slowly made their way back to his face. "Oh! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to just blurt it out like that, honestly. It was just seeing you, of all people…" I stopped and grimaced; aware I wasn't making matters much better. "It's none of my business." Uncle Edward; a jilted lover! He was the very last man in the world I would have imagined being left at the altar.

"True, but I've noticed that doesn't stop you butting in. Don't apologise. I can see I've made your day, and I do like to spread a little joy. Most people manage to disguise the worst of their prurient curiosity – but, hell, you go right ahead and enjoy yourself." Edward slid out of the Volvo and slammed the door in a controlled sort of way.

"Under no circumstances would I call talking to you enjoyable," I countered tartly, forgetting for the moment I was talking to the object of pity.

It occurred to me as I took in the casual elegance of his dark denim suit and simple check shirt **(Image of outfit on Profile)** that he and Jessica Newton must have been a stunning couple. Individually they were both head-turners; together they must have inspired universal envy.

"You took me by surprise," I accused.

"Sorry," he remarked, in an ironic tone that made my cheeks flush a deep shade of red.

"I wouldn't normally be so cruel or unkind."

"You thought for me you'd make and exception? I'm touched."

"I don't take pleasure from other people's misfortunes," I added loftily.

"What, not even a little?" he mocked, judging the distance between his thumb and forefinger through narrowed eyes. I shook my head angrily and he laughed. "Well, you must be a very unusual person, Bella Swan, because for most people something as juicy as a jilted bridegroom brings on a nice warm glow."

"Wallowing in self-pity does the same for other people." I winced, and looked up at him with genuine remorse. "That was an awful thing to say," I said impulsively. "I'm really sorry. It's a terrible thing to happen; to anyone. I expect you got over it a long time ago," I added comfortingly. "You wouldn't be here if you hadn't." I'm babbling, I thought, trying desperately to bring my tongue to heel before I said something awful – _more _awful, I mentally corrected.

"Would it make you feel even worse if I said there are some things a man _never_ gets over?" he enquired as he watched me, with malicious amusement, getting tied in knots in my attempts to soothe his injured feelings. Despite the fleeting display of pity, he looked as though he was enjoying himself.

I looked at him suspiciously as he struck a dramatic pose, one hand pressed to the region where his heart is _ought_ to dwell. Was this a case of double bluff? I wondered. Was the flippancy to cover the extent of his real feelings? Admittedly he didn't look like a man deeply traumatised, but you could never tell – Phil didn't act like a man with a broken heart either. Expelling my breath in a gust of warm air that grew instantaneously frosty white, I made a conscious decision to stop trying to redeem myself.

"Well, in that case you'll probably be very happy she's getting divorced."

Edward shot me a very hard look, the mocking light dying from his eyes. "Jessie?" he snapped, his dark brows drawing together in a straight line.

Jessie – Jessica. I was startled. I'd sort of assumed he knew more about the situation than I did.

"Didn't you know? Isn't that why you are here?"

"I'm here for lunch with old family friends. More to the point, how do _you_ know?"

"Well, she didn't tell me, but her mother…"

"Are you telling me Jessie is here; _now_?" he demanded. Self-discipline couldn't prevent the colour draining dramatically from his face.

Suddenly he wasn't so cool and confident. I ought to have felt pleased, in a spiteful, mean-minded sort of way, that I'd inadvertently punctured his egotistical bubble. Inexplicably this display of vulnerability didn't make me feel any happier. If anything my mood became blacker.

"Waiting to enfold you in a loving embrace," I informed him sourly. Sometimes I didn't know when I'd had a lucky escape. "Before you ask, she didn't say that either. But I did gain the distinct impression that it is 'kiss and make-up' time. Face it, you've been set up."

"Hell!" he cursed, delivering a quick look towards the charming timbered façade of the old Tudor manor house. He touched my shoulder lightly, his emerald green eyes searching my face. "This isn't a wind-up?"

I shook my head indignantly. "Why would I…?"

"All right, all right…" He hushed my indignant objections in a slightly distracted, irritated way. "Be quiet, will you, woman? I'm thinking!" he ordered peremptorily. His steely gaze swept beyond my ostentatious display of anger.

I sarcastically clicked my heels and brought my hand up in a smart salute. When he still ignored me, I stamped my feet on the frosty ground and blew onto my cold fingertips. What a time to forget my gloves. It hadn't got above freezing all day. Did he think I had nothing better to do than wait around here for him to eventually get around to moving his stupid, silver Volvo?

"Listen, I want you to do something for me."

"No, I want _you _to do something for _me._ Move your car so I can leave, remember?" What is it with this man? Did he think my life revolved around him?

"I want you not to scream or yell."

I cast a suspicious frown up at him. "Why would I…?"

"On second thoughts, make that total silence."

I didn't have time for first, second or any other thoughts as his lips came crashing down on my slightly parted pair. My arms instinctively wrapped themselves around his neck, his own snaking around my waist and drawing me closer. I didn't scream or yell, but I did kick him very hard in the shins; once I _eventually_ realised exactly what I was doing.

When he did draw back I was panting for air like a stranded fish. The healthy glow had faded from my cheeks, leaving me pale with anger. My glittering sloe-dark eyes rested contemptuously on his face. I found them sliding automatically to his lips.

'Eventually' had left far too much time to appreciate the firm texture of his sensual mouth. Not that I'd appreciate it as such; the slow, sensuous movement had been calculating callous. It had been a cynical display of expertise designed to reduce his victim to trembling compliance. I firmly pushed aside the memory of the searing contact.

"Excellent," he murmured as the roar of blood was receding in my ears. "What a pal you are, Bella. Consider the bill for the carpet ripped up," he added magnanimously.

_Pal?_Talk about adding insult to injury! Pals, at least mine, didn't go in for mouth-to-mouth contact; they contented themselves with a handshake or an affectionate hug. I would _never_ be throwing hugs in his direction!

"Don't worry, she's gone," he told me, rubbing his bruising shin against his uninjured calf. "Jessie was watching us from the window," he explained, as comprehension didn't dawn on my pale features.

I might have got it wrong. In fact Edward probably thought I had. It would have been bizarre if Jessica had been expecting him to walk in and act as if nothing had changed over the past two years. On the other hand, why hadn't the Stanleys told him she was going to be there? The fact they hadn't did suggest this might be a set-up.

To be on the safe side, the kiss had been a calculated exhibition of reality. If Jessie did have any unrealistic expectations, she needed to know he could kiss other women now. For a moment I thought his glance briefly returned to the outline of my full lips, maybe I was just kidding myself.

I might be screaming foul now, but I had definitely responded. Indignation made me feel dizzy. It had to have been something like that, of course. I wasn't quite stupid enough to imagine that display had been for my benefit.

"Going to make her suffer before you crawl back, are you, Uncle Edward?"

Jessica Newton nee Stanley was the woman he'd thought of when nostalgically recalling mutual fumbling; I was sure of it. If he didn't still care he wouldn't have needed to stage that little performance. His first love: maybe his last? Two twin flags of colour appeared on the crest of my sharply curving Slavic cheekbones as these uncomfortable conclusions chased each other through my head.

"At one time I lulled myself to sleep with sweet dreams of flaunting my lovers under Jessie's nose," he admitted frankly. "She was going to wake up to what she'd been missing." He seemed amused rather than bitter at this wry recollection. "Actually, I find the possibility of being in a position to do the rejecting embarrassing. What did you call me?" he added abruptly.

I didn't bother hiding my scepticism. "Talk about pathetic," I continued in a disgusted voice. "Even for the spur of the moment that wasn't a very original thing to do. Do you think kissing _me_ is going to convince her you haven't been pinning away?"

"You do yourself an injustice, Bella," he said in a soft, suggestive voice that made the fine hair on my nape quiver. "And I hate to destroy your illusions, but I haven't kept myself pure and chaste since Jessie left me. Despite what my sister says, neither have I slept with a different female every night." His expression was hard and cynical.

In Esme's opinion, which she voiced loudly and often, he was over-compensating for being a one-girl man for so long; either that or having his revenge on the entire female race by breaking as many hearts as possible. Esme had often voiced this opinion with me, during one of our heart-to-hearts. These conversations were merely to discuss Emmett and Jasper, although they often led to other irrelevant subjects; such as Edward Cullen.

"I'll sleep better knowing that," I responded faintly. You just didn't go around talking to virtual strangers like this. I didn't think I was being particularly gauche to feel distinctly uneasy and out of my depth with the direction this conversation was taking. I'd better do some redirecting quick-smart.

"I think balance is important in all things, including sex. And I'm talking sex here…"

"I wish you wouldn't," I breathed.

"Not sentimental love," he clarified, despite my plea for ignorance. His voice carried a deeply scornful inflection that made it quite clear he didn't think much about romantic love these days. "I don't let my libido rule me, but I do enjoy myself."

"How sad," I responded impetuously.

"Sad?" he echoed sharply.

"Fast cars, high-powered job, trophy girlfriends; it sounds like a male teenager's fantasy, but for a grown man it just seems a bit empty and, well… sad to me," I confessed.

His deep green eyes widened. I didn't even sound judgemental, although Edward obviously didn't seem to like the idea of sympathy.

"I suppose your life is deeply fulfilling?" he returned in a clipped, un-amused tone.

"Sorry, I should have kept my opinions to myself." I gave an understanding nod. "You don't like pity; neither do I. Was Jessica your first…? Oh, no, I shouldn't have said that!"

What a nice, impersonal sort of question, Bella, I told myself, biting my impetuous tongue so viciously I could almost taste the salty tang of blood. My cheeks felt hot enough to melt most of the ice in the vicinity. You just didn't go around asking a man when and with whom he'd lost his virginity!

Edward, after his initial shock had worn off, looked as though he found my forthrightness quite… refreshing.

"Jessie and I started dating when we were still at school." His beautifully shaped mouth quivered ever so slightly, but his expression remained grave. "Shall I elaborate…?" He asked, noticeably repressing a grin.

"No! Please… that's not necessary. I think it's very… very…"

"Nauseating?" he suggested with a thin smile. "Please," he begged urgently, "don't say _sweet_."

"Well, it is. I think it's a pity you've let the experience turn you cynical and jaundiced."

"You sound like my sister."

"The brother I've got is more than enough," I assured him crisply.

"I thought bringing him up had been a deeply rewarding experience."

"It is sometimes, and other times," I said with a rush of frankness, "it's frustrating, worrying and exhausting! I don't think I have influenced Emmett's development very much," I mused. "He has a _very _strong personality and he's always been incredibly self-sufficient."

"The 'strong personality' part appears to be a genetic trait you share."

"Do you feel threatened by strong women?" I challenged, reading criticism in his observation. 'Bossy' was an adjective that had been inaccurately applied to me more than once. My best friend, Alice, had frequently told me I scared men off.

"No, attracted," he announced frankly, with no discernible change of expression. "I've an allergy to clinging," his lips moved in a moue of distaste.

My capable, self-reliant, independent 'Woman of the Millennium' pose vanished without a trace in the face of this breath-stealing announcement.

"Are you flirting with me?" I demanded; aware that I didn't sound as outraged as I ought to. At least I'd managed to avoid purring encouragement; that was a small mercy.

"I don't think I'm brave enough. Besides, there's always the boyfriend." His emerald eyes narrowed slightly, and I wished I was more accustomed to carrying off a lie convincingly. My guilt felt out of proportion to the convenient fib. "I'm beginning to wonder about the boyfriend," he said slowly, confirming all my worst fears. "It seems to me, for someone handing out lessons you don't know much about kissing, do you, Bella?"

Not content with humiliation and insulting me, he was now telling me I was a rotten kisser! I wanted to yell, "What do you know?" But common sense prevented me; it had been painfully obvious he knew quite a lot!

"Unlike you, I don't consider kissing to be an intellectual exercise. I can't divorce my mouth from my emotions."

"I'd noticed that." His eyes rested on my lips with an expression that made my stomach muscles clench quite suddenly. "The other day I nearly kissed you; let's be honest, you wanted me to. You're not asthmatic, are you?" he asked with some concern as I began to audibly choke. "Sorry, I didn't recognise the signs of outrage," he said sardonically as my dark gaze swept in loathing over his face. "Admittedly I was being opportunistic just now," he confessed, with a frank and open grin I didn't trust for one second. "But I had wondered what it would be like to kiss you… actually I'd been wondering a lot."

The suggestive drawl made my throat grow dry. "And now you know." My chin inched up to a defiant angle. "Sorry it was an anticlimax."

Did he actually think I'd be flattered or aroused that he'd been thinking about me. My mind swerved from the ambiguity of my present chaotic feelings, of which arousal was a very significant component.

"Now I know," he agreed gravely. Noticeably he didn't deny the 'anticlimax' part. "You should wear gloves, you know. Your hands are like ice."

I didn't need reminding how he knew the temperature of my fingers. When I'd linked my arms around his neck my fingers had been in contact with his bare flesh. I could recall quite clearly how warm his skin had been under my fingers; how springy the short hair there curled against his nape.

"So that… that…" I just couldn't bring myself to say 'kiss.' "It was inspired by curiosity rather than a desire to show your ex what she's been missing?" I observed in a choked voice. "What are you doing now?"

"Warming your hands," he explained, placing my hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Don't struggle, there you go. Someone might be watching."

"Good, and if they've got a spare strait-jacket: even better!"

With my hands confined in the deep pockets of his jacket I found myself standing chest to chest with him. Still understandably jittery after being kissed, I found the experience almost claustrophobic. If I'd extended my fingers I could have touched the hard flesh of his thighs through the layers of fabric. The molten feeling in my belly spread insidious tentacles through my body.

I would definitely have curled my hands into tight balls to avoid this very situation had he not inserted his fingers into the palms of my hands. His thumbs were inscribing overlapping circles in my palms. The sensation it created was almost electrical. 'Almost' didn't enter into it, I admitted as the ripple of feeling reached my toes!

"There, isn't that better?" he was saying as I fought against the cotton wool consistency of my brain. "What's wrong, Bella? Do men normally ask your permission before they kiss you?"

"Not formally, but I'm usually a willing participant," I informed him thickly. "Has it occurred to you yet that you've put me in a very awkward position?" It was just occurring to _me_ that there were ramifications to this situation beyond the collapse of my nervous system. "The Stanleys probably won't want me to work for them anymore."

"Why? Have you killed off their prize Busy Lizzies?" He took my hands from his pockets, as if the idea had been his and I hadn't been ramming my nails in his palms. "Circulation restored," he said, gifting me back my hands, which showed an alarming tendency to tremble.

I wrapped my arms across my breasts in an instinctively protective gesture, one of which he observed with a hatefully knowledgeable smile. "They might not like the hired help kissing the prospective son-in-law. I happen to get a lot of work by word of mouth. My reputation is important."

"That has a deliciously archaic sound to it. Does this mean you only kiss men after a formal arrangement has been reached?"

"I'm talking about my _professional_ reputation." It was easy for him to act as if this was all a joke, but I'd won my clients the hard way. "I think my personal reputation can take the strain of one feeble kiss, even from someone like you."

"_Someone like me?" _The arching eyebrows shot upwards. "You notice; I hope; that I'm willing to let the slight on my masculinity pass. It's all part of being in touch with my feminine side," he drawled drily.

His expression seemed to soften quite unexpectedly, and I found the sudden caressing warmth hazardous. "Relax, Bella. I'll make sure there are no unpleasant repercussions," he told me confidently. "I'm grateful for the favour, truly."

I believed him. Just like that. I had the strong gut feeling he just didn't waste his time saying things he didn't mean or throwing away boasts he couldn't back up. Sarcasm and sharp words I could cope with, but consideration had a deeply detrimental effect on me. For some reason I felt an aching emotional lump in my throat. This was silly. Why was I letting this man mess about with my emotions?

"You make it sound," I burst out, "as though I offered my services! I thought merchant bankers were all sickeningly rich, boring, grey little men," Why, oh, why hadn't Uncle Edward been just that? "But you're stark staring mad. The most deranged individual I've ever met!" I elaborated. "I don't want your gratitude. I just want to get out of here and go home." Dear God, I'm the one who sounds deranged, I thought, hearing the unattractive shrill note of panic in my voice.

Anyone would sound shrill, wouldn't they, if they'd discovered something they'd just been too stubborn and scared to admit to earlier? Edward Cullen wasn't just an attractive man, _I _found him disturbingly attractive, and not just in an objective sort of way!

There was definitely nothing objective about the taste of him in my mouth. I drew a shaky line over my trembling lips with my tongue. This had to stop now. Edward Cullen was a very unsuitable sort of man to be getting interested in. Even if there had been the remotest chance of anything coming of this he was also a man who was about to be reunited with his only true love, I reminded myself brutally.

The moisture had dried off my full pink lips almost immediately. "I'm relieved you don't think I'm boring, but…" he touched his temple, "…I have spied the first sprinkling of grey."

I found myself automatically searching his dishevelled bronze hair. I detected the faintest hint of chestnut, but no grey. Edward Cullen was one of those golden people, and there was another one inside the house waiting for him; two of a kind.

"Are you going to move your car for me, Uncle Edward?"

"There you go again," he growled as I realised I was making him sound rather elderly.

"Sorry," I said with a patently unrepentant smile. "In our house you are always referred to as Uncle Edward."

"It worries me no end that I'm referred to at all in your house."

"The man," I continued, "who wrestles lions before lunch and brings about world peace in the afternoon."

"Jasper…" he began, his brows drawing together in a fierce frown.

"Thinks the sun shines out of your… whatever," I added hastily. Anatomical references, however light-hearted, had a tendency to make my mind wander in unhealthy directions. Actually, he did have a very, very nice rear end. "He worships you," I amended swiftly, privately appalled at me wantonly lustful thoughts. "And here you are about to get into some heavy romantic reunion just when he needs your attention," I observed disapprovingly.

"Is that how it works with responsibility? I've often wondered. You put your own life on hold and take a vow of chastity for good measure. You must have a very understanding boyfriend, Bella. Have you never heard of balance? All work and no play," he goaded softly, "makes Bella a very bitter and frustrated young woman."

"I'm not the least bit interested in you sex-life," I retorted, and the less interest he displayed in mine the happier I'd be. I didn't want to be reminded that I'd taken a few liberties with Phil's name.

"Really?" he drawled with undisguised scepticism. "I got the distinct impression you were _very_ interested in my sex-life. We've shared such a lot in so short a time. I know who my first was…" The suggestive quirk of his lips made me blush madly and he laughed out loud. "Such instantaneous rapport is rare. I feel as if I should consult you before my next move. Should I play hard to get or…?"

"I could care less!" I yelled back hotly. He really was the most sarcastic pig I'd ever met. "I should go in, if I was you, or you'll just be plain late rather than fashionably tardy. I'm sure you never do anything that is unfashionable."

"That's me, a victim of fashion and distressing need to conform," he agreed blandly, with all the confidence of someone who never tried to gratify anyone's expectations but his own. "Talking of fashion..." His eyebrows lifted as he looked me up and down. "If you ever want a few tips… Actually," he said glancing at the Silver Dial Chronograph Bracelet watch on his wrist, "I _should_ put in an appearance now. I'll just move the car. And don't worry; I'll keep you up to date with any developments in my love-life."

Whistling softly to himself, Edward retreated to reclaim the driver's seat in the Volvo. By the look in his eye, I knew that he had every intention that I would be personally involved in future developments.

**:-o-O-o-:**

**A/N:**_**Question: What's the weirdest thing you have ever started having a random conversation about?**_

**Review with the answer, for a blueberry muffin, and tell me what you thought.**

**Next Chapter: Things hot up between Edward & Bella and Edward meets Phil.**

**LittleTwilightManiac xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I love all of your reviews. I noticed that not everybody answers the questions. :( For the ones that do: a huge thank you. Tree bark, beans, cheese and condoms; you people talk about weird stuff. Remind me not to get in a conversation with you!**

**Yami416****:** Hahah! I feel sorry Biggie, having to put up with your insane nature. I love your randomly long reviews, keep them coming! :)

**Minatilldawn: **Thank you for correcting me! I'm so glad you were able to pick up on my mistakes. I have tried to correct them, go back and tell me what you think, if you get time. Thanks. :)

**Dedication:** I dedicate this chapter to: EdwardCullenManiac4Eva. Only because you begged, dear friend!

**Disclaimer:** All things _Twilight _belong to their rightful owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

**BPOV**

"What are you two plotting?" I, fresh from a hot bath, strolled barefoot into the kitchen. "Has anyone seen my slippers?" I'd treated myself to a long, luxurious soak and was feeling pleasantly disposed towards the world in general – even my brother.

Neither of the two boys replied to my original question so I knew I had accidentally struck gold; they were up to something. Do I really want to know? I wondered, with a cowardly unwillingness to disrupt this glow of well-being.

"That's a really nice dress, Bells. I don't think I've ever seen it before. It does something for her, don't you think, Jazz?"

The dress in question was a simple satin jersey top in black that reached to mid-thigh **(Image of outfit on Profile)**. Emmett had to have seen this item from my limited wardrobe at least a hundred times before.

"What are you after?" I addressed the question to Jasper, knowing I was more likely to get the truth out of him, rather than my brother. Thank goodness Jasper was recovering from his embarrassment; at least he hadn't dashed from the room, as he had on the last two occasions we'd met, but his gaze did slide awkwardly from my own.

"Spit it out, Em," I advised, wriggling my behind comfortably onto the table-top and swinging my chilled toes clear of the tiled floor.

"We've been discussing our eighteenth."

"Oh, well, Jasper's welcome to come too on Saturday. It's not really a party," I explained apologetically. My budget didn't stretch to anything more than a nice meal for family and friends – not that we had any real family except Great-Aunt Sue, who had refused her invitation. No big surprise there. As far as Aunt Sue was concerned becoming a _man _wasn't something to celebrate! She thought there were too many of the creatures around to begin with. I, who was quite fond of the eccentric elderly lady, had been quite relieved. Sue and Emmett did nothing but squabble when they were within shouting distance of each other, and being referee could get tiring.

"Jazz has come up with this idea of combining our celebrations."

"Well, it wasn't really me, it was Uncle Edward." Jasper's glance shifted to my left. "Perhaps he'd better explain."

It was about halfway through this halting explanation that I realised there had been three people in the kitchen when I'd entered, not two. I was suddenly very conscious of my long bare legs and the fact I had nothing other than my Cheeky Boyshort panties on under the clinging tunic. To my horror, just knowing he was there was enough to send a burning flood of tingling to my breasts. I didn't dare glance down to see if the evidence of this physiological anomaly was as explicit as I suspected.

Thinking about Edward Cullen, let alone being in the same room as him, made me more aware of my body and it's needs than I'd ever been in my life. I'd been going along a happily unaware sexual sleepwalker until I'd been unwillingly awakened by the wrong man. In this case ignorance had definitely been bliss!

Stiffly and reluctantly, I swivelled my head. Sure enough there he was, in the far corner, examining the crowded, untidy notice board. What did he think he was doing lurking in corners?

"How long have you been here?" I resisted the feminine impulse to smooth my hair of do anything fluttery and revealing. Had he been watching me? The idea made me feel disturbingly vulnerable.

"I gave the boys a lift over." He was fingering a shopping list written in Phil's bold, but illegible print. The dark jeans and cashmere sweater he wore emphasised the long, lean lines of his powerful body **(Image of outfit on Profile)**. It's shallow and silly to get worked up by a good body and pretty face, I told myself severely, especially when it's attached to such a provoking personality.

I was going to deal with this bizarre attraction in a mature and adult manner. At least I would once I'd worked out what mature adults did about these sorts of situations. For now I'd just make do with pretending it wasn't happening. He didn't seem in any hurry to look at me at all. Obviously I'm not nearly as fascinating as I think, I decided with a self-derisive shrug.

"Becoming a taxi service to teenagers can be a full-time job if you're not careful."

"I'm always careful." I looked at him as though he was speaking gibberish.

What's he frowning at me for? He wasn't very careful when he gave his heart to Jessica Stanley, was he? My lower lip pushed forward resentfully at that unpalatable thought and I began to chew angrily at the soft flesh. I suppose everything's rosy there again. I felt suddenly alarmed by the jealous shape of my thoughts, until Edward interrupted.

"It does seem foolish to duplicate a birthday celebration; same guests and so forth. Don't you think? I've hired the Crown for Saturday night."

"I doubt if it would be a duplication. Emmett's just having a special family meal." Did he think we needed charity? I linked my ankles and swung my legs, pendulum-like. My toes brushed the cold tiles of the floor although I didn't seem to notice.

"I've organised music and so on, and a few family and friends to put a damped on an evening of restrained youthful intimacy." He exchanged a quick grin with the two boys and continued as if I hadn't spoken.

When he turned back towards me, his gaze caught on my bare legs. Ogling intently at the breathtakingly smooth and flawless skin, the muscle definition in my rounded calves was as taut as a dancer's. His attention stayed put for a while longer than comfortable, before he spoke up again.

"But there's a problem with the catering." He cleared his throat. The skimpy black thing, whilst not clinging as such, did reveal the supple slenderness of a very excellent body. The fact that my sensuousness was innocent and not studied only seemed to intensify the effect. "Emmett tells me you could cope with that. It would get me out of a hole."

I looked indignantly towards my brother.

"Well, you're a great cook with basic stuff," Emmett responded defensively. "And Phil's brilliant. He loves nothing better than feeding people, and he's bound to if we ask him nicely."

_We_ could be safely translated as _me_. "I don't like being manipulated, Em. And save me the hurt spaniel look," I advised. "It doesn't work on me."

"Not often," Emmett agreed cheerfully. "But it was worth a try."

"Phil's a chef?" The muddy football shirt Edward had lifted from the overflowing linen basket was several sizes too big for Emmett. "And a big bloke too."

"Phil? Football?" Emmett chuckled softly to himself at the idea.

"That's Ben's," I replied crossly. "And I'd prefer it if you didn't go through my dirty laundry."

"_Your_ dirty laundry? I thought you said it was Ben's." Obviously wondering how many men I have crawling through the woodwork, Edward looked around the room in disfavour.

"Ben is our lodger," Emmett explained helpfully. "We've got three, to make ends meet."

Next he'll be discussing my overdraft arrangements with the man, I silently fumed. "I'm sure Mr Cullen isn't interested in our domestic arrangements, Em," I reprimanded my brother sharply.

"It's no state secret, is it?" Emmett muttered in a disgruntled tone. I _was_ being more unreasonable than usual.

"Talking about domestic arrangements, Bells, you've used up all the hot water again, my love."

"Phil!" I'd entirely forgotten he was home.

"Yes, Phil," he repeated, shooting me a slightly quizzical look. "And you must be…?" He looked towards the tall bronze haired guy who was watching him with a curious antagonistic expression.

"Edward Cullen."

"Uncle Edward! At last! We've heard a lot about you." A Greek god, in the flesh, in my kitchen, obviously went some way to explaining my somewhat peculiar behaviour.

"All I've heard about you is you're _not_ a chef or a football player." Edward concluded, swiftly summing Phil up as an under-impressive boyfriend.

"I can confirm both of those statements; especially the football part. However, it's possible I might well have been a great chef in a previous incarnation," he said, grinning at me, although I still had the slightly hunted expression on my face.

"Theo works at the university," Emmett explained.

"In the Psychology department," I added, getting to my feet and tucking myself in at Phil's elbow. I wondered if I should link arms with him, but on balance concluded it would be best if I acted as naturally as possible.

Any minute now and someone was going to say something, and Edward would know what a fraud I was. He'd know I'd invented a boyfriend and, worse still, he'd know I'd _needed_ to invent him. If he doesn't find out I'll never…_never_ lie again, I promised fervently.

"He's a professor," Emmett added for good measure.

"Really?"

From his neutral tone it was hard to tell what Edward was thinking, but I knew that most people looking at Phil's bald head and piercing blue eyes didn't immediately associate him with serious scholarship. But even with his somewhat individual approach to style, Phil was an attractive man.

He was also thirty-eight, divorced, and not lucky in love. One rainy night about four years ago, Phil had confided, after he'd emptied a particularly good bottle of red, that the woman he loved was married to an invalid husband she wouldn't leave. I thought Phil deserved some good fortune on the love front.

"Em thinks we can supply food for a joint birthday party at the Crown. I've already told him we've made alternative arrangements."

"The Crown," Phil nodded approvingly. "Very posh. But I'm surprised they aren't doing the catering themselves."

I could have stamped in vexation. When it came to interpreting body language Phil was remarkably slow.

"It was a last-minute booking and they have a staff shortage," Edward explained glibly.

"You wouldn't expect anything too fancy…?" Phil's interest was obviously whetted.

"Phil, we can't… I mean…" _What do I mean?_ I wondered, aware of the curious looks directed at me. "We couldn't possibly impose on your good nature."

"Why? It's never stopped you before. I'm just joking, Bells," Phil said, obviously puzzled by the look of anxiety on my face. He threw an arm casually around my shoulders and drew me to his side. "You wanted to give Em a party and this seems like the ideal opportunity. You know I'm up to the challenge, sweetheart."

One swift glance towards Edward was enough to confirm my suspicions. Anger flared. Where did he get off being all fastidious about a bit of harmless naughty word-play between two people he thought were lovers? In point of fact we weren't, and Phil's words had lacked any hidden meaning, but that was irrelevant.

"Besides, you could do with letting your hair down." Phil affectionately ruffled my long wavy chestnut hair. "Now, I'm afraid I'll have to love you and leave you, folks. I've got a meeting I'm late for. Looks like we'll meet again, Edward. If you get your skates on I'll give you two a lift down to the sports club," he said, switching his attention to the two boys.

"Basketball!" Emmett banged his forehead with the heel of his hand. "I was so busy helping people…"

"What a hero."

Emmett grinned, and ignored my wry interjection. "I almost forgot. Cheers, Phil, that'll be good. Come on, Jazz. See you later, Bells."

"In before ten-thirty," I responded automatically as the room rapidly emptied – almost. The 'almost' was significant enough to send a secret shiver down my spine.

"Will he be?" He read the perplexed expression in my deep brown eyes. "In by ten-thirty."

"Oh, I expect so."

How had I ended up alone with him? Despite being an innocent bystander to the circumstances, I felt absurdly guilty, almost as if I'd stage-managed the event myself. It wasn't as if I _wanted_ this to happen, I told myself. The situation was making me feel physically ill.

"It felt strange at first, laying down the law to someone only a few years younger than me, but Emmett's quite considerate in his own way, and very mature for his age." A frown creased my smooth brow. Sometimes I worried he'd had to grow up too quickly. "If he ever strays off the straight and narrow I'll always know it was his idea. He's not a very malleable individual," I added drily.

"You seem to have got the balance right."

"Is that a compliment?" I widened my eyes in exaggerated shock.

He gave an almost sheepish shrug. "It looks like it," he confessed. "As I'm being so nice, aren't you going to offer me a drink? It would be a neighbourly thing to do."

"We're not neighbours." I wasn't sure if I should trust him when he was being nice.

"I'm hurt."

"Not trivially, I hope."

"That was petty."

I grimaced in acknowledgement. "I know, but you… you…"

"Bring out the beast in you?" he suggested mildly.

"You should be so lucky," I sniffed.

"I know."

My eyes clashed with his: my own filled with shocked dismay, his with warm irony; very warm. The sort of 'warm' that could make a girl say and do stupid things.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked referring to my perch on the table, in which I had returned to once the room had emptied.

"Can I stop you?"

"At any point."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You know _exactly_ what I mean," he contradicted smoothly as he slid beside me, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He appeared totally relaxed. "The boyfriend has a trusting disposition."

"It's one of his charms," I agreed huskily. My heart had taken on a scarily irregular rhythm. "One of many," I added with a hint of desperation.

"But then again, why should he worry, leaving you alone with me?" he agreed blandly.

I knew his eyes were fixed on my profile, but I kept my own gaze fixed firmly on my hands, which lay neatly folded in my lap. "Precisely."

"How long have you been together?"

"Phil has lived here for nearly five years." The other lodgers had come and gone, but Phil never had.

Edward inhaled sharply. "Five years!" His lips tightening in disapproval, "You must have been young."

"Eighteen."

"I suppose it's understandable if you had a father fixation," he observed harshly. "But I'd have thought you'd have worked through it by now."

"Phil has always been my friend when I've needed him." Stung to anger, I finally looked at him. All the disdain I had heard in his voice was plastered on his face. "I respect him." I don't care what he thinks, I told myself firmly.

"There's a hell of a lot more to a relationship than respect and friendship!" he snorted dismissively.

"Perhaps if there had been a bit more friendship in your relationship with Jessie she wouldn't have ditched you so dramatically."

"Oh, we had friendship aplenty."

I didn't quite understand the odd, bitter inflection in his voice.

"I did say I'd keep you up to date with developments, didn't I?"

"I'll pass," I responded gruffly. The last thing I needed was a blow-by-blow account of their tender reunion scenes! Or maybe that was _exactly_ what I needed to bring me to my senses!

"To understand the present you need to have a working knowledge of the past. I'm not exactly sure how much of the nitty-gritty details you know."

"What am I?" I raised my hands palm up. "A captive audience? The way I hear it you've got enough money to afford professional counselling."

"Perhaps I prefer your gentle sympathy. And then again…"

"You're the sort of person people dread sitting next to on a train or plane; the sort who feels obliged to supply their life history. I don't care if Jessie found out you were having affairs by the dozen or she couldn't stand your snoring."

"Actually, I was just too boring and predictable for her," he said in a matter-of-fact way. "You see, she shares your view of bankers."

"She thought _you_ were boring?" _I_ couldn't have heard him right. Edward Cullen was many things, but boring was not one of them.

The sombre expression died abruptly from Edward's face and a laugh of genuine amusement was wrenched from his throat. "I'm flattered by your incredulity, Bella. Close your mouth, darling," he advised softly. "It's a very tempting target."

"Oh…!" My mouth closed with an audible snap.

The thought of what my mouth tempted him to do: brought a film of perspiration to my upper lip. Dry-throated, I swallowed convulsively. How would he kiss me? Hard: his mouth hot and hungry? Or would it be slow and subtle? My eyes half closed as for a split second I was floating. I could almost feel his tongue… taste… A tide of intense heat swept over my body and I gasped. I'd become nothing short of shamefully depraved. Where would this tendency to depravity end? That was the worrying question.

He was watching me with keen-eyed interest, and I had a nasty feeling telepathy might be included amongst his many talents.

"Did she actually say that, at the church?" I asked, clearing my dry throat noisily. What a prize bitch the woman was.

"Not in the church vestry, nothing so dramatic. She rang me the night before." His sexy mouth twisted in a bitter smile. "From the airport, five minutes before her flight left. I got the idea she wasn't leaving anything to chance." He gave a sardonic smile.

She hadn't even had the guts to speak to him face to face! He was definitely due a bitter smile or two, I reflected, astonished he could relay the information with so little display of emotion. On second thoughts I didn't trust his composure; nobody could recount that sort of history and not feel devastated.

"That really stinks!" I exclaimed frankly, my bosom swelling with indignation. "Even if it was true; the boring bit."

He was looking at me really oddly, and I remembered, belatedly, that I was probably bad-mouthing the woman he loved. "I don't mean to offend you, and I'm sure she's a very nice girl…" I said stiffly. "But it's a really horrible thing to do to anyone."

"Even me?"

"I wouldn't wish something like that on my worst enemy."

"I take it you wouldn't jilt your man?" Edward was watching me with a disturbing half-smile, languid but oddly alert.

"I wouldn't be stupid enough to get myself as far as the church with a man I didn't want to live with for the rest of my life."

"Things aren't always that cut and dried."

What am I; too young and inexperienced to know that? I stared at him, my dark eyes smouldering. Was he actually defending what the woman had done? He must be besotted, I decided angrily. I'd never forgive someone who did that to me, let alone consider reconciliation. Why am I so angry? The question stopped me dead in my tracks.

"We knew each other almost too well. I thought I knew what she wanted." He massaged his jaw and looked into the distance, his gaze unfocused. I found I resented the fact his thoughts were obviously a long way from me. "It came as something of a shock to discover that the thought of growing old with me was giving her nightmares. If we'd talked earlier, who knows?" His wide, powerful shoulders lifted slightly. "As it was, Jessie just freaked at the thought of forever after with me."

Jessie wasn't freaking out now, I thought, recalling the woman's eager anticipation of his arrival. "Not talking is not my idea of _too_ close; it's not nearly close enough."

"Well, if we're talking close, your Phil wasn't exactly intuitive back there. You all but spelt it out in semaphore that you didn't want him to help with the party. All you got was a pat on the head. He treats you like a part of the furniture."

"It's called being at ease with someone. Not everybody displays their feelings in public. What did you want him to do? Throw me on the table and make mad, passionate love to me?" I said, patting the hard wooden surface to emphasize my point.

The image my sarcastic words conjured up was written plainly across his face. He obviously had other intentions of his arrival, other than the party excuse. He, at the very least, wanted to kiss me, the lust was written in his eyes.

"Not everybody has any emotions to display in private. How old is the guy anyhow?"

"He's exactly the right age," I declared, tossing my head and smiling.

Edward's nostrils flared. "Does he often criticise you like that? Don't you mind?" he asked incredulously.

"Criticise…?" I wrinkled my nose. "I didn't notice."

"That crack about letting your hair down. There are a lot of men around who persistently denigrate the way their women look, and the women just take it. I didn't think you were the type."

"He doesn't care about the way I look," I responded unthinkingly. "That is, Phil isn't interested in superficial things like looks," I added hastily.

I didn't much like being classified as a subservient appendage. I could vaguely recall some teasing comment, but things Phil said to me weren't indelibly engraved on my memory. I didn't lie awake at night replaying our conversations word for word. Whereas every sentence and phrase that had passed between me and this man had been dissected and analysed in minute detail during wee small hours.

"Some older men like to get a young woman. They're more malleable, easier to brainwash."

"Phil's never taken advantage of anyone in his life!" I gasped indignantly.

"I think your hair suits you the way it is. You've got a good neck." The words took me totally by surprise.

It had sounded too abrupt and terse to be a compliment, but I could see his smouldering glance was still fixed on the graceful curve of my throat. I felt strange and breathless. My neck had never made a man look hungry before.

"Thank you," I rasped. My skin prickled where his eyes touched.

It didn't look as if my gratitude or the contemplation of my neck was affording him much pleasure, so maybe the prickling meant my neck had come out in nervous blotches; it felt like that.

As I struggled to stop myself touching my throat, the indentation between his brows deepened further. "Does he know about me?"

"He knows all about Uncle Edward. I've told you, we all do." I adopted a light, teasing tone and rolled my shoulders to relieve the tension coiled there.

"I mean does he know about _us_?" It seemed Edward was not feeling humorously inclined.

"There is no us…"

"Yet."

If his confidence was meant to unnerve me, it did. What had he said? He didn't let his libido rule him; he just enjoyed it. And does he intend to _enjoy_ me? Is it really that simple for him? Probably. I was sure that Jessica was the only woman he'd ever been emotionally attached to. I also knew I didn't have the emotional objectivity that was required to have an affair with Edward Cullen. I didn't even want that sort of objectivity. Neither did I want a man still tied to his past.

"For a man who wants to make up with his old girlfriend you have a kind of unique way of showing it."

"I don't want to discuss Jessie," he said dismissively.

_You and me both. _"It's a bit late in the day to say that. I've had chapter and tragic verse!"

"I didn't realise you were jealous."

"I'm… I'm…"

"You don't need to be," he told me soothingly. "My relationship with Jessie is – complicated. My relationship with you is much more straightforward."

"I really admire your ability to compartmentalise your life Edward," I sneered. "I don't know what your suggesting but–" I began.

"Yes you do. I find you sexually attractive and you find me…"

"Arrogant: beyond belief!" I gasped. Jessie was intended for deep, meaningful relationships and she was good for a quick…! Did he even realise he was insulting me? "What would I want with a man who's obviously trying to prove himself to be irresistible to all women just because the one he wanted did a runner?"

"That's one theory certainly," he agreed in a composed manner.

"Are you still in love with her?" I felt like cringing the moment the words were out of my mouth. To my amazement he paused for a second and appeared to consider my question seriously.

"Some things are hard to put into words." He hadn't had much difficulty up to this point! "I don't quite understand why you're taking the moral high ground here. Why am I getting the grilling? I'm not the one living with someone. I'm prepared to accept that."

"You're mad." I wriggled to the edge of the table, but he leant across and grabbed me by the wrist. "Do you mind" I said, looking pointedly at his fingers curled around my slim forearm. "The last time you did that…" I reminded him.

The last time I had been wearing suitably protective underwear and his strengthened forearm hadn't been pressed across my aching breasts. Or perhaps my breasts hadn't been aching then. Either way, it seemed to be an inescapable fact that my hypersensitivity to this man increased alarmingly every time I saw him.

"I won't mark that lovely skin."

"I prefer you didn't touch the _'lovely skin'_."

He grinned, leant close, and cupped my face almost casually in his free hand. "Liar." His thumb traced the faint hollow beneath one cheekbone. "Tell me, why were you so anti the idea of joining forces for the boys' birthdays?"

"We're not a charity case. I may not be able to afford to hire the Crown, but we've got by up to now without any hand-outs from you!" My voice was gruff and aggressive whilst inside I was melting. He probably knew about the melting; he was experienced in such things – the dramatic rise in body temperature, the intermittent tremors that afflicted my tense body.

I closed my eyes because his face was too close, and I could feel the inexplicable warmth of tears prickle against my eyelids. I couldn't shut out the masculine fragrance of him, though; its smooth vanilla scent filled my nostrils. His thumb had stopped moving, but it still rested lightly against my skin.

"I told you, you'll be doing me a favour."

"That's another thing. This whole thing smacks of _Upstairs, Downstairs_!" I accused wildly. I couldn't say the more I was in his company the more I liked it, could I? Though life would be simple if _liking_ really did cover the way I felt about him.

He'd released my wrist now, and suddenly both hands framed my face. I could feel the merest whisper of his lips against my own. The delicate skin covering my eyelids quivered, but they remained tightly closed.

"Will I be expected to keep out of sight with the rest of the hired help?" My voice sounded as though it was coming from a long way off. I gave a shuddering sigh, and the fingers, that had intended to remove his hands, clutched at the soft wool of his sleeves.

I could feel Edward's gaze on my fingers, tightly curled in the cashmere fabric, and I could feel a sense of savage satisfaction radiating off of him. His breathing deepened and quickened as he rested his chin against my forehead. His lips moved softly in my hair. Through my eyelashes, I could see the outline of the strong column of his neck. The intimacy was shattering, like nothing I'd ever known or dreamt of. I wanted to lean closer and press my lips against his throat. What would he do if I did? What would he do next anyway? I knew I was trembling and clinging, and doing all the things I'd decided to definitely avoid, but for the life of me, I couldn't stop.

"I wanted to see you again."

"And you couldn't understand why?"

"I didn't say that…"

"Well, your tone more or less implied it."

"I admit I was surprised by how much I wanted to see you again. Our last meeting left me wanting more." His throaty voice was as exciting and erotic as his embrace.

Or does he just want to use me to make Jessie jealous? "We shouldn't be doing this," I whispered.

"Because of Phil…?"

He still thought I belonged to someone else, but it hadn't stopped him. He thought I was the sort of woman who would kiss him while committed to another man. He probably thought I'd do more than kiss! Perhaps his opinion of me had changed less since that first meeting than it seemed.

From things Jasper had dropped, it was pretty clear that Edward had established his reputation as a lady-slayer. I didn't want to be one in a long line of willing victims.

I wasn't sure yet, but I might just be falling in love with Edward Cullen, and he was almost certainly still in love with his ex-fiancée. Sleeping with him would be a quick route to disaster.

I suspected the quickest way to make him stop would be to tell him the truth. Words like 'love' would have him running for the hills! Ignoring my initial impulse, I swallowed the truth. I allowed my lips to brush his throat just for a fraction of a second. I was conscious of the faint, vanilla dampness of his skin, and then I pulled back.

"I don't want to do this," I lied. I wondered whether he'd actually be true to his word.

His body stiffened. There was a slight pause in which I, my mind racing, had several frantic thoughts about retracting my firm statement. It might make me look fickle and indecisive, even a tease, but, hell, wasn't that better than feeling like a martyr? I hadn't a single suffering instinct in my entire body; suffering did nothing for me. _What could be so bad about a fling with the sexiest man I had ever met – or would ever meet? _I thought, busily rationalising.

"Now she tells me." He ran both hands rapidly through his hair and then paused, wrists under the angle of his jaw, fingers linked behind his head.

It was the last response I had expected. To my total amazement he moved casually away from me. When he'd said he would stop I hadn't thought he'd keep his word with such insulting ease. I knew I was being perverse, but I couldn't help it.

He might at least have pretended to be in the grip of the unreasoning passion! The impression that he could take it or leave it, while I was coping with the most gut-churning sense of deprivation I had ever experienced, left my dignity in tatters.

He stood up and ran a hand through his hair again. I suddenly realised that he wasn't as unstressed as he'd sounded. His suffering couldn't compare with my own, of course, despite the taut expression on his face and the nervous tic in one lean cheek. The drawn-out, tense look to his lean body was a dead giveaway. Relief, Bella? I've obviously lost my marbles, I concluded.

"It probably wouldn't be a good idea," I said weakly.

"You don't have to apologise for using your right of veto."

"I wasn't!" I flared indignantly.

"_Probably_ isn't a very definite term. 'Probably' is closely associated on my mind with 'perhaps' and 'possibly'."

"That's because you're thick-skinned."

"An eternal optimist would be a kinder way to put it, but we won't argue about it."

"I though that was what we were doing."

"You're a very pedantic person. Has anyone ever told you that? Are you afraid of kissing me, in case you discover you enjoyed it?"

"I've already been kissed by you, remember." I already knew I'd enjoy it. That was the problem; or one of them.

"You call that a kiss?" His deep, derisive laugh rang out.

"Now who's being pedantic? And we all know why you kissed me then."

"Actually," he said thoughtfully, "_we're _not entirely sure on that one."

"Sure!" I scoffed, stifling the uncertainty his unexpected statement had created. There was nothing more pathetic than a woman who heard what she wanted to, I told myself sternly. "This is an entirely ridiculous conversation to be having."

"I agree. We ought to be doing it, not talking about it." A warm, dark hole had replaced what had once been my stomach. I swung my heels too far underneath the table, lost my balance and had to stagger ungracefully to my feet.

He watched my acrobatic demonstration silently, his fleeting enigmatic smile making me uneasy.

"Not that I have any problem with verbal lovemaking; it has its place and it can be very stimulating don't you think?" He paused politely for me offer an opinion, inclined his head slightly when I didn't respond and continued smoothly. "I could tell you right now, for instance, what wanting to kiss you is doing to me – physically speaking – if you'd like?" His voice had been transformed into a deep, toe-curling purr.

"A generous offer," I croaked, "but if you don't mind I'll decline." I might be coming down with flu. That would explain the febrile symptoms.

"I could say it's your loss, but it wouldn't be true. I rather think it's _our_ loss. Does your sexuality embarrass you, Bella?" he enquired, looking at my flushed cheeks and shocked face. "You know you're not in love with your shrink, don't you?"

"He's not a psychiatrist; he's a psychologist."

"A teenage girl should not chain herself to one man before she's had a chance to live. Any man with an ounce of decency wouldn't want her to," he added grimly.

"I'm not chained to anyone."

"Prove it," he responded immediately.

"Let me guess how…" Despite everything, I felt my lips twitch. "You've got to be kidding, Edward!" His name came naturally and satisfactorily to my lips. "What a line!"

"Crude, I agree," he conceded, holding out his hands in culpability. "God, girl, what do you expect? I'm pretty desperate here. You'd condemn me to a cold shower?"

His rueful honesty was incredibly seductive. It moved me more than any pretty speeches. I could feel my defences crumbling beneath the weight of his outrageous sincerity.

"Cleanliness is next to godliness," I reminded him primly. Does he really want me this much, or is he just damned persistent?

"Well, you should know about cleanliness. It appears you do the laundry for half the town." He nudged the laundry basket with his toe.

"Everyone in this house does their own laundry," I corrected him. "I'm not some sort of domestic drudge, you know."

"Possibly not," he conceded, with very little conviction, "but you must admit you haven't led the normal carefree existence of the average teenager. This can't have been what you'd planned for yourself. You must have felt envious when you saw your friends spread their wings, leave home, go to university?"

I wasn't even conscious of nodding. At first I hadn't been able to read Alice's letters without feeling a sense of envy. We'd planned to share a flat together. It should have been _me_ complaining about the noisy flat above, the essay I'd had to work on until four a.m. Each incident had been something that might have happened to me, had things been different. Only, things hadn't been different, and I wasn't the sort of person to lament for long.

"I enjoy what I do," I told him in a cold voice. "And I'm no longer a teenager. I haven't been for some time. Neither do I need you to show me what I've been missing."

"Emmett will be leaving home soon," he reminded me, immune, it seemed, to the venom in my voice. "He won't need you," he said brutally.

I wondered if he was being deliberately cruel. I lifted my eyes to his and instinctively shied away from the flicker of compassionate understanding in his eyes. I didn't want his pity; I was no charity case!

"I know it hurts to be redundant, but you've done too good a job of making Emmett independent. Are you going to use your freedom; take the opportunity to do all the things you weren't able to before? This place, for instance." His glance encompassed the high-ceilinged room. "It's a white elephant, and you know it. The upkeep alone must be enormous. If you sold up…"

"I realise that you financial advice must come pretty dear, but I'll pass. And _you_ actually have the cheek to accuse Phil of trying to influence and control me? Thought not to his face, I notice…"

"Naturally not. I'm terrified of the man…" Edward drawled wryly.

"I wasn't thinking of physically," I snapped, my eyes spitting fire. "It's a sorry state of affairs when a person is measured by the size of his muscles!"

"I see. It's the man's intellectual prowess you admire so much. You think I just don't have the smarts to exchange the insults with the professor. What do you know? My mental mediocrity has caught me out again," he sighed.

"You're… you're… so _smug_!" I exclaimed in exasperation.

When they'd handed him out a perfect body and a face most females, given the option, would attach to their dream lover, he'd also received a mind like a steel trap and tongue that was too articulate for his own good! And didn't he just know how to use the package!

"You know I'm right. That's why you're mad."

His air of composed common sense and restraint made me want to scream. I took a step closer to him and jabbed a shaking finger in his face. I'd have given a great deal to shatter his cursed insouciance.

"What right have you got to lecture me?" I demanded hoarsely. "Why are you so bothered about what I do anyway?"

An expression I couldn't quite decipher flickered momentarily into his eyes, which remained fixed on the finger that danced shakily before his nose.

"Damned if I know."

He suddenly reached for my outstretched hand and firmly pulled my extended finger towards his mouth. As his warm lips closed moistly around my finger, I let out a sharp gasp of disbelief.

Just when he'd lulled me into a false sense of security with all the up-front, painful honesty he did something sly and manipulative and mind-blowingly _sensational_ like this!

At the touch of his mouth a debilitating weakness invaded my limbs and incapacitated my brain.

"_Edward_…" Most of the protest didn't emerge in my voice. In fact what came out was alarmingly near to an appeal, a request.

"What?" he whispered throatily as he proceeded to give each separate digit individual loving attention. He hooked my now limp arm around his neck and, reaching for my waist, jerked me closer.

I found myself leaning against the hard contours of his body. And he was hard; hard, powerful, lean, and very different from me. Who'd have guessed, I mused dreamily, that a contrast could be so fascinatingly pleasurable? I was suffused by warm, voluptuous sensations. It felt so perfect, so _right_.

My body seemed to know all the right moves before my sleepy, amorous brain had even got into gear. Unconsciously my hips rotated, slowly, suggestively grinding against him until our lower bodies were sealed. Edward murmured something indistinct and I felt the aggressive masculine thrust against my stomach. Excitement spilled out, licking along my nerve-endings like fire. Edward grunted, his fingers splaying in the small of my back, moving to softly explore the taut curve of my bottom and making me gasp.

Kissing distance, I thought, languidly lifting my face automatically…eagerly to his. All my antagonism had been submerged by the tangible white-hot sexual charge that had exploded between us.

Edward dropped his head until our lips were just a whisper apart. His eyes were half closed. I gazed, transfixed by the tiny dancing flecks of silver in his molten emerald glance. He was breathing hard, his warm breath and fragrance against my face. The warmth of his body smelt…male, alien, exciting. My body was strung out with the hungry anticipation of his touch. I lifted the hand at my side and it came into contact with the outer aspect of his thigh.

"S…sorry," I gasped with revealing naïveté as I felt the extraordinary contradiction of heavy muscles beneath my fingertips. This display of quivering muscular tension had evaporated the last drop of moisture from my throat; I couldn't swallow now, let alone speak.

"No apology necessary," Perhaps his throat was dry too. I hardly recognised the thick tone. "I like it." The tip of his nose brushed the side of mine. "That's it," he approved as my fingers, with slow-blooming confidence, returned. I felt his chest vibrate with a deep groan, and a small smile of female triumph curved my lips.

But I couldn't smile while his teeth were tugging gently at my lower lip. All I could do was utter a series of indistinct guttural moans before his plundering lips silenced me completely.

The taste of him exploded in my mouth as his tongue probed deeply. I could taste his urgency and arousal. My hands hooked around his head and my fingers burrowed deep into the lush thickness of his hair as I responded with an answering hunger and the desire to strain frantically against his lips.

Hands on my ass, he lifted me fractionally, drawing me up on tiptoes as he pulled me roughly against his arousal. The deep, driving need blanked out all intelligible thoughts from my mind. I pushed my hands under his sweater and let them glide against the muscle-packed flatness of his chest.

"You feel…"

"You like?" he asked, equally huskily.

The grin only lasted a split second before he had swooped to taste me again, with all the fervour of a starving man. But if I'd been in my right mind I would have been very disturbed by the brief flash of ruthless triumph: I wasn't in my right mind at the moment.

The frenzied hunger, which made me touch, cling, provoke and sultrily demand by turns, was outside the realm of my experience. I was barely conscious of sitting on the table-edge, his hands still beneath my ass. My body arched backwards as his mouth bore me downwards.

I wasn't quite horizontal when the noise jerked me out of the sexual thrall. In retrospect, I realised it must have been a very loud noise, because nothing else would have penetrated my pleasure-saturated mind.

"Bella, I'm…we're…" Ben glanced to his fellow lodger with an agonised expression of appeal. He was standing amidst the broken shards of a jug that had been sitting on the old Welsh dresser. "We wouldn't have… We didn't know…"

"We're very sorry, Bella." Angela Weber's face was bright pink, and her eyes darted around the room in studied avoidance of anything incriminating. "Come on, Ben." She tugged urgently on his arm, but Ben appeared frozen to the spot by the spectacle before him. "We were just going to my room. _Weren't we?_"

"What…? Oh, yes, indeed. You won't know we're here. Nice to meet you…er… Yes, well, goodnight." Ben mumbled unintelligibly ad they retreated from the room.

"I take it I've now been introduced to all the inhabitants of 6 Appleton Avenue?"

I focused on some point over Edward's shoulder. I hardly noticed my well-toned stomach muscles begin to protest at the fixed, unnatural posture my body was frozen into.

The tableau was broken as Edward withdrew his hands from beneath me and straightened up. I, who was abruptly conscious of my ridiculous position, half reclining on the table, jack-knifed into an upright position and pulled frantically at the hem of my tunic, which was hitched up well above decency level. On the scale of cringe-making awful situations this had to be _off_ the scale!

"That was Ben…" What would they think? I know exactly what they'll think, I thought bitterly. That I was rolling around semi-clad with a stranger on the kitchen table. They'll think that because that's what I _was_ doing! _I'll emigrate_, I decided, swallowing a bubble of hysteria, _to Siberia._

"The broken nose was a giveaway; football player."

"And Angela." I muttered, although I knew it was a bit late for self-recrimination now.

"They're a couple?"

_He didn't miss much, did he?_ "No announcement has been made, but I think so." The engineering student and the librarian were not one of life's most obvious pairings, but it seemed to work for them.

"Perhaps you should start a dating agency. I take it there's not much point me trying to catch on where…?" I made a choking sound. "No: right. The mood's been broken."

He sounded remarkably philosophical about it. I'd heard men of my acquaintance sound more emotional about the football score! My body was aching with frustration and he was cool as the proverbial cucumber. The man was a bloody robot; I fumed, nursing a deep sense of resentment. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing how mortified I was, how he'd turned my world upside down. I was going to tough it out.

"This won't happen again."

"I should hope not," he agreed readily. "I know some folk are big on outlandish locations, and spontaneity has its place, but I'm a 'soft bed and locked door man' myself; boring, I know, but there's much less chance of interruptions." He glanced thoughtfully at the table-top. "Your poor back would have been covered in bruises."

The image his words conjured up rubbished my cool composure act in seconds. My face went scarlet. I opened my mouth to speak and nothing came out but a gurgle.

"I wouldn't actually have…" The words emerged croakily past my semi-paralysed vocal cords.

"If you say so," he agreed indulgently. "I think this officially makes me _the other man_, don't you?"

"Will you please go away?" I pleaded.

When he did I wasn't as delighted as I should have been. If I hadn't been so financially straitened I might just have indulged in a childish orgy of crockery-smashing.

**:-o-O-o-:**

**A/N: Wow that was longer than I thought. Sorry about that. Hope you like it. Can we get 10 reviews before next chapter?**

**Question: What is the most embarrassing thing you have been caught doing?**

**LittleTwilightManiac xx**

**P.S. Thanks for reading.**

**Words: ****7,983**

**Pages: 22**

**Next Chapter: Emmett and Jasper's party.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I am so sorry that it took me this long to update. I have been really ill. I'm feeling a lot better though, and really felt that I owed you this entire chapter. Umm, well, enjoy! Sorry for any mistakes…**

**Yami416:** There will be more chapters; meaning more Yami dedications. I actually prefer your version of my story; very dramatic. I would love to use that idea but I already have this story planned out. There are a few twists along the way, some including Jessica. I'm sure you'll like it, even if it isn't as exciting.

**AliceCullenGeek: **Wow that would have taken a LOT of caffeine in my system to keep me awake through a 50 min lecture. I understand your motions for talking to stuffed animals. I do that most of the time. I agree that they're great listeners! Your dedication is next chapter. :)

**Bianca19948: **I'm so glad you enjoy my story. I love some of the words Edward uses too. My friend says that I sound extremely English when I say things like 'Darling' and 'Sweetheart'. Hahah! Keep reading and reviewing.

**Dedication:** I dedicate this chapter to: Clancy119. Your reviews are what keep this story going. Thank you for your amazing words. :)

**Disclaimer:** All things _Twilight _belong to their rightful owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

**BPOV**

I walked into the foyer and almost collided with Jasper. "Hello, Jazz. Happy birthday." I nodded in a friendly way to the dark-haired girl who had her arm linked with his.

"I'm glad to see you…Mi…erm…Bells." For a minute there I had been sure he was going to day Miss. I hid my smile and suddenly felt geriatric. "Thanks for the birthday present. It was…cool. I thought you weren't coming. Em said you were, but I thought maybe…"

The dark-haired girl tactfully detached herself at that moment, and gave me a shy half-smile before turning up the voltage in Jasper's direction. "See you inside, Jazz?"

"Definitely," he grinned as she turned and left the room.

"She looks smitten, Jazz."

He blushed some more, looked pleased, and shrugged a lot. I kept my expression suitably grave. "I thought maybe you were still mad with Uncle Edward or me."

"I was never mad with you, Jazz." He looked so relieved he obviously hadn't noticed I'd not extended my amnesty to his uncle.

"Uncle Edward was great about it once Em explained. He even came up with the idea; and it worked." He saw my blank expression and smiled. "You know – about you being his girlfriend and me trying it on and him – Uncle Edward that is – being mad as hell. It worked like a charm," he concluded happily.

Emmett hadn't told me about the development, but then nobody had ever accused my brother of being dumb. "Clever old, Uncle Edward."

"I know. He's great, isn't he?" Jasper responded enthusiastically. A frown creased his smooth brow. "That's why I'm so worried. I'd hate it if he got, well…hurt. He _seems_ all right, but I don't know what Mum will say when she gets back," he said with an anguished look.

"Why's that?" I enquired dutifully. I knew from experience when a sympathetic ear was required, and he had the look of a boy who needed badly to get something off his chest.

"This woman is back – the one who…" He broke off suddenly and looked confused.

"The one who dumped your uncle?" I suggested calmly. Some of my bubbly excitement that had been zinging around my bloodstream started to slowly dissolve.

Jasper gave a sigh of relief. "You know all about her. I'm not supposed to talk about it, but if you know… Mum calls her 'That little…'" His face grew red. "Well, that doesn't matter."

"I don't think you can be held responsible for your uncle's personal life, Jasper."

"I know that, but…after she dumped him, Uncle Edward went a bit crazy, you know. He packed in his job, gave all his suits to a charity shop, and went backpacking around South America."

No more champagne blood. No more happy bubbles. "A somewhat extreme reaction," I agreed quietly. I couldn't imagine the strong, confident, irreverent Edward I knew, being so devastated. The woman must have meant everything to him. I could only imagine the emotional turmoil he must be feeling now; seeing her again.

"He even grew his hair long."

"Not his hair?" I gasped, hiding my extreme distress with a display of flippancy. "Did they call in a psychiatrist?"

"It was serious," Jasper responded reproachfully.

I didn't need telling. I recognised 'serious' when I heard it. I recognised 'broken heart' and 'shattered life' too. "Sorry. Do you think he's…they're…?" My expression carefully concealed any personal interest I might have in the reply.

"I don't know," Jasper admitted unhappily. "He had lunch with her, and she keeps ringing him; at all hours. He might even have seen her more often. I don't know. What if…?"

"Stop it, Jazz," I said firmly. "Your uncle is a big boy now, and nobody's going to hold you responsible if he does decide to get back together with his old girlfriend."

"I know, but…"

"You're worried about him, I know, and it makes you a very nice person. Try not to be, Will you do that for me?"

"I guess so," he agreed.

"I don't think you should keep a pretty girl like that waiting too long, do you?"

He blushed scarlet. "She is pretty, isn't she? Thanks, Bella."

I watched him leave with a visibly lighter heart and I envied him.

**:-o-O-o-:**

"I can certainly understand your concerns now I've met him, Edward."

I recognised the mid-Atlantic accent immediately. The night _could_ get worse! I hovered uncertainly, my hand still on the curtain that half concealed the entrance to the cloakroom. If composure was as easy to apply as lipstick I'd have been out of here ages ago.

So much for avoiding the woman, at all costs. Jessie had known Edward and his family for ever; of course she was going to be here. The party was a perfect place to make their new understanding public property. If they hadn't reached an understanding yet it wouldn't be for want of trying, if Jasper's facts were accurate. Had the trying reached the bedroom yet? My stomach churned with nauseous rejection at the idea. My indecision had only lasted seconds, but I felt as though I'd been furtively hiding there half the night.

"Emmett?" The sound of Edward's deep voice made me freeze. My knuckles turned white against the rich velvet drape, as I strained to hear the rest of the conversation.

"He's quite a character." I instantly loathed the other woman's laugh; it had a false, empty ring to it. "It's going to be hard to discourage the friendship. If you want my advice, I…"

"It's not the friendship I…"

I swept the curtain aside with a dramatic flourish. There was a loud swish and a rattle or brass curtain rings, which granted me their immediate attention. I stepped out, my body rigid with fury.

They were discussing my brother, who apparently was considered unsuitable friend material for his precious nephew! How _dare_ they? Emmett was worth ten of any teenager I'd ever met. There was a short expectant silence before I managed to get my anger partly under control. My bosom was still heaving dramatically against the silky cowl-neck bodice of my brand-new dress **(Image of outfit on Profile)**, but the furious tears had reversed down the tear ducts and I had control of the strong impulse to bang their interfering heads together!

"If you don't think Emmett is good enough to be Jasper's friend what the hell is tonight about? Is it our social standing that doesn't match up to your standards? The female of the sub-species is all right for the occasional grope, but you wouldn't want your son to marry one? You hypocrite!" I erupted furiously.

Edward's eyes swept in a distracted fashion over the full length of my slim body as the furious words spilt. "Hypocrisy," he corrected me, "is when you pretend you don't like being groped."

If I'd been red-faced earlier I was now paper-white with fury. If he thought I was going to be sidetracked by a bit of ogling or slimy innuendo, he could think again. And if he leered at me again, I'd tell him so!

"There's no need to get shrill. Jasper's just worried about Emmett's influence…" Jessica began in a soft, placatory voice.

Shrill indeed! She hasn't seen anything yet! I fixed her with a glare guaranteed to wither, and the lips acquired a pinched look of anger.

"Emmett: a bad influence!" I jeered. "That's ridiculous! How _dare_ you make a judgement like that? What gives you the right?" I addressed the question to Edward, as my voice raised a quavering octave in the space of a single syllable. "They've been friends ever since Jasper moved here. His parents obviously have no objections. What makes you such an expert on adolescents all of a sudden?"

"Good question, Edward. One amongst many this conversation raises," another familiar voice joined to discussion.

The tall woman was still wearing a thigh-length trench coat, underneath which I could see the shimmer of formal silver material **(Image of outfit on Profile)**. Her caramel hair hung loosely, in naturally waves. She was looking around the trio with interest.

"I take it you're Emmett's sister; I can see the family resemblance. I wouldn't take any of Edward's criticism to heart, my dear." Esme Whitlock cast her brother a maliciously sweet smile. "He's always been very opinionated."

As far as I could see, Edward wasn't evincing any of the nervousness of his elder sibling he'd once claimed. If anything he appeared to view the interruption with resigned irritation.

"I'm sure Jessie will back me up on that point. Jessie…such a surprise," Esme drawled languidly. It was impossible to tell from Jasper's mother's voice if the surprise was pleasant of not, but in view of Jasper's comments. I suspected not. "This seems to be the night for surprises."

"You managed to get back in time, then," Edward said with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world. I changed in the taxi."

"I take it you're not alone." Edward looked around with a frown.

"Carlisle's around somewhere," she confirmed vaguely. "I've offended his notions of decency by stripping to my undies in the taxi; he can be a shocking prude sometimes."

"A prude and a surgeon: quite a combination."

"He's gone in search of an immediate stiff drink," his sister responded with a lazily good-tempered grin.

"He's not far away then – good. And I'm sure you can't wait to see your son. Incidentally, Dad and Elizabeth are here somewhere. You won't mind if I leave you for a few minutes? I need to sort a few things out – in private. Bella!" he barked peremptorily. He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to fall in step at his side.

"When he snaps his fingers I come running." Nostrils flared, I gave a tinkling derisive laugh. _Unbelievable!_ I rolled my eyes at this display of masculine conceit. "You've got to be joking… Ouch!" I yelped indignantly as he fixed a heavy arm firmly around my waist.

**Esme POV**

"Well…well," I mused, my eyes dancing with amused speculation as I watched the angry woman being dragged unceremoniously away by my brother. "What do you make of that?" I looked at the silent woman beside me.

There was no reply forthcoming, but from Jessie's expression I got the impression that whatever the answer was, it was making her feel pretty pig sick. _There is some justice in the world!_ I thought, hiding my jubilation behind a bland smile.

"Tell me, how's your husband?" I asked sweetly.

**:-o-O-o-:**

**BPOV**

It was keep up with him or fall on my face, because he wasn't shortening his stride. Reluctantly, I did the former.

"Where do you think you're taking me?" Anxiety at the prospect of falling over something miniscule or nonexistent made my voice sharp. "Will you…?"

"In here looks all right," Edward interrupted, after pushing a door open. He flicked on a light switch and bustled me inside. His tight-lipped expression was that of a man who'd used up all his tolerance. "This'll do," he confirmed, closing the door behind us.

"This is private," I protested, looking around the small office. Add a small room and Edward Cullen and you had the ideal formula for instant heart-thudding claustrophobia.

"Exactly."

The stark fluorescent light was the sort of the thing that emphasised every shadow and line on a person's face. My meticulously applied make-up might just compensate for it, but I doubted it. Not that it mattered any more. Edward was here with his Jessie and he was a two-faced snob! Jasper's revelations made their new beginning sound very cosy.

Naturally the light revealed no nasty surprises on Edward's face; he still looked as beautiful as ever. My heart gave a little skip, but I ignored it. I glowered disdainfully at him and lifted my chin.

"I _am_ worried about Em's influence on Jazz." He didn't waste any time with preliminaries. "Hold on and let me finish," he added hurriedly as I started to puff up once more with indignation. "Only not the sort of influence you think. Emmett is a remarkably charismatic character."

_Takes one to know one_, I thought miserably. I'd made a poor job of pretending, even to myself, that I hadn't been waiting with breathless anticipation to see Edward tonight. Helping Phil lay out the buffet earlier, I'd been as jumpy as a nervous teenager.

Exasperated Phil, who hadn't been his usual imperturbable self today, had eventually sent me off home early to get changed. It all seemed so foolish now; the breathless anticipation, the taxi because I'd taken so long getting ready I'd missed my lift! Edward's sister had got dressed in the back of the car and she looked sensational! As for the extravagant new outfit – which, I decided, probably looked to Edward's more experienced eye, cheap and nasty beside Jessie's designer label – what a waste of time!

"Jazz rides around on the coat-tails of his popularity. He's completely in his shadow; a situation he finds very comfortable. Jasper's a great kid too, in his own way. Only his way isn't as flamboyant or up-front as Em's. I just think that Jazz tends to be, for want of a better word, plain lazy. He'll let Emmett have all the ideas, Emmett do all the organising; he'll just sit back and be organised.

"I just think he should be a bit more independent. There isn't always going to be an Emmett around to smooth his path in life. It would do his self-esteem no end of good to do something occasionally for himself. None of that," he said firmly, "reflects badly on Em. He looks after his mates; that's admirable. The last thing I'd try and do is to put an end to their friendship. Some of the most enduring friendships I've made go back to my schooldays," he added thoughtfully.

It didn't take a genius to interpret this as an obvious reference to Jessie. I felt suddenly painfully excluded. That sort of shared history was something I couldn't compete with, even if I had felt the inclination to do so.

"All of which I would have explained if you hadn't zoomed in like an Exocet missile." Edward thrust his hands in the pockets of his formal dark jacket and leant back against the wall, his unwavering emerald eyes fixed on my face.

"But _she_ said…" I persisted. I felt somewhat deflated by this comprehensive and thought-provoking explanation. I had to admit there was some justification to Edward's concerns.

"Jessie."

"Whatever." I dismissed the name with a sniff. "She said…"

"Nothing that is out of context with what I've just explained to you."

"You've discussed this with her?" Don't be stupid, Bella, of course he has. The pair of them were obviously getting back to where they'd once been. It might take time, but he'd virtually told me straight out; they were soul-mates. It was as well I knew for sure now, before I'd done anything foolish, I told myself briskly.

"I mentioned it in passing," he agreed. "God knows what you'll be like in defence of your own offspring." The lines around his eyes deepened with sudden amusement, and I struggled to dismiss the images of bronze-haired infants with sparkling green eyes.

"I'm not counting on finding out in the near future."

"Or at all?" he asked, his voice unexpectedly harsh. "I was doing the classical male thing and assuming you'd want a family eventually."

"Well, actually, I do. But as I'm hurtling towards twenty-five, not thirty-five, I don't feel any great sense of urgency. Is there anything wrong with that?" I enquired, a hint of pugnacity creeping into my voice.

"You might be a baby, but your boyfriend's on the wrong side of forty."

"I've no intention of having Phil's babied!" I gasped. The notion was the funniest thing that had happened yet tonight – probably because it was the _only_ funny thing that had happened. So far the evening had been a non-stop disaster.

"Does he know that?"

"He probably suspects it."

"Do you realise you were like a tigress when you thought we were putting the boot in with Em? And he's only your brother. You've got some very strongly developed maternal instincts."

"Me! What about you? I could accuse you of being overprotective with Jazz, but _my_ manners are far too nice." I shot him a sweetly belligerent smile. "And it's not as if Jasper's even your responsibility – well, only temporarily. And you don't think _only_ when there are just the two of you. It's not as if we've got surplus relations coming out of the woodwork."

"I'll admit the strain of responsibility has probably gone to my head. Perhaps I was never emotionally equipped for parenthood." The smooth skin of my forehead creased. I didn't know what to make of the odd inflection in his voice. "And now you'll no doubt say I'm too old."

I threw him an impatient look. "If you were female, I'd say that you were fishing for compliments."

He shook his head reprovingly. "What a sexist thing to say, Bells."

"Actually, I don't think about it at all," I lied fluently.

"Which: my age or my fertility?"

"Neither," I concealed my agitation. "But you're not," I added abruptly. "Unless: you're really on octogenarian with a really good cosmetic surgeon."

"That was really very good," he observed admiringly. "You didn't come right out and say, how old are you? For you it was impressively subtle. Actually, I'm thirty-six."

"He _she_ got children?" Wow! What happened to my _subtlety_ then? Do I have to blurt out everything that comes into my head? I wondered, stifling a groan and blushing deeply.

"Are we talking about Jessie again?" He sighed, in a bored sort of manner, but I could sense his wary withdrawal.

_Oh, yes,_ I thought, _it would suit him very well to avoid that subject._ "I expect you planned a family together." I gasped, and clamped my hand over my mouth. "I shouldn't have said that," I said quickly, watching with some trepidation for some sign of his response. His expression was neutral, almost bland. "You see, I have no social graces whatever," I told him with a hint of belligerence.

"Yes, we did."

Well, I asked for that, didn't I? I thought bleakly. It was easy for my fertile imagination to conjure up a painfully clear picture of Edward losing, not just the woman he loved, but the life they'd planned to share together, all in one fell swoop. I could see him dwelling, over the years, on what might have been; never finding anything to fill the place of what he'd lost. Now he had a chance to reclaim what had been his, rebuild his dreams. What man could resist that opportunity?

In my admittedly limited experience, I'd found that trying to recapture and recreate youthful memories wasn't always what it was cracked up to be. But I could imagine what his response would be if I decided to share this piece of worldly wisdom with him!

"That's was part of the problem." I wasn't quite sure now if he was even aware I was there; the unfocused expression in his eyes gave the impression he was looking at something a long way off. "I wanted a family and I assumed Jessie felt the same. She didn't say otherwise – no until…" His distant gaze focused suddenly on my face, and he looked almost surprised to see me. "You did want to know," he taunted me, sweeping his hand through his hair. The weary gesture brought a lump of emotion to my throat.

"I didn't mean to pry," I whispered miserably.

"Then it looks like you've got more than you bargained for, doesn't it? You opened this can of worms, remember. I dated Jessie when we were both at school. We went to university at opposite ends of the country and we drifted apart; there were other people for us both. We met up again in our late twenties and eventually we moved in together. We had great jobs, a great social life. We were so compatible that most people envied us." His words were laden with embittered sarcasm. "You know how the story ended."

_If_ the story had ended; I didn't think it had.

"I was probably rude to her," I conceded suddenly. Most people, myself included, had a history, but wasn't it just my luck that the man I had fallen for had come face to face with his history? It didn't help that the face was exquisitely perfect.

"_Probably?_" One eyebrow shot skywards.

"I've apologised."

"_You have?_ What for, exactly? I must have missed it," he confessed apologetically.

"For spoiling you intimate moment," I hissed. Perhaps he won't notice that I sound like a jealous witch, I hoped – without much conviction.

"Intimate! You have a very peculiar idea of intimacy, Bella. In my intimate moments I don't discuss the hurdles of adolescence. We've shared what I would call an intimate moment, and you'll recall…"

"I wish you wouldn't talk about that!" I said urgently, clasping my hands together and beginning to pace back and forth in the confined space.

"Why not? You did, and you weren't talking; you were yelling at the top of you very efficient lungs, as I recall."

He just had to remind me of that, didn't he? "That was different," I told him firmly. "I was… I was…"

"Mad as hell?"

"Exactly, so it doesn't count. Actually, I'd have thought you'd be grateful. She should be good and jealous now. Wasn't that what you wanted?"

"You tell me."

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, but now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to the party." A party I'd seen very precious little of yet.

"I thought you weren't coming, you know," he said, uncannily echoing his nephew. He stretched out suddenly and placed his hand against the door I was about to open.

Like you'd noticed, I thought angrily. His voice was disturbingly close to my ear so I didn't turn my head. "I had things to do."

"Well, you did them very successfully. Emmett said you hadn't finished getting ready," he explained, when I shot him a quick questioning look over my shoulder. "You look beautiful, Bells."

"I wanted to make an effort for Em's sake."

"Not for my sake?" His sardonic gaze swept over my face. "I'm disappointed. That colour really suits you. What would you call it – royal blue? It ripples when you walk…"

My stomach did some unscheduled rippling too. My sharp inhalation was audible as I spun around, my back pressed against the closed door, to face him. "I'm not interested in getting involved with you, Edward." If there had been such a thing as 'the power of thought' my tense body would have passed through the solid wood.

"I think you are."

"Then think again," I advised grimly. "You really expect me to amuse you until you decide to go back to Jessie? It's _obvious _that's what you are going to do!"

"Is that a fact?" he asked with interest.

Even ha hadn't that gall to deny it, I noticed. "Of course it'll have to be when _you_ decide. I expect a man has to salvage a bit of pride in a situation like this."

"You seem to have thought this through very thoroughly. I notice there's one element you haven't included in your equation – your boyfriend. I use the term 'boy' in the loosest possible sense here. He isn't an obstacle worth mentioning, it would seem – _interesting_."

I'd been going to tell him about my little whit lie tonight; _that_ was how crazy I'd become!

"Perhaps I ought to tell your professor how _friendly_ you've been with me."

Now that would be on interesting conversation. "You wouldn't," I said hopefully. I was going to have to confess to Phil about taking a bit of artistic license with his name, preferably when he was in a good mood – a _very_ good mood.

"How do you feel about blackmail?"

"A device employed by the scum of the earth," I replied without hesitation. Edward's body was warm, with the quality of tensile steel and the texture of… I blinked rapidly. Most importantly, his body was almost as close as the sensual cloud that was attacking my judgement.

"Dance with me tonight and I might not mention your lapse in fidelity."

"It's nice to have your first impressions confirmed. You _are _a scumbag!"

He gave a sudden incredulous laugh. "You thought I was going to demand more than a dance, didn't you?" His eyes ruthlessly searched my face, "were you thinking of higher stakes than a kiss too?" He watched the telltale colour crawl up my neck until my whole face was aflame. "Well…well, what a lurid mind you have."

I made a sound of disgust and turned my head sharply to shut out the amused glow in his eyes, "Let me out, Edward."

"Only out of the room, sweetheart, not my life!" He threw the words out after my as I scurried down the hallway, towards the sounds of people and normality.

**:-o-O-o-:**

"Have you met Jasper's parents yet?" Phil placed his drink down on a table and caught hold of my hand.

"His mother." For obvious reasons I didn't go into details. "I've met Carlisle before."

Phil ignored my reluctance and pulled me onto the dance floor. "Don't be a killjoy, Bells, come on," he urged.

"Are you drunk, Phil?"

He looked thoughtful. "Not entirely sober is more accurate. I've reached a crisis point in my life." Not you too, I thought, shifting my weight to compensate for his erratic manoeuvre to the left. "And the alcohol was meant to clear my vision."

"Is it working?" I asked, smiling with affection up at him.

"Not really. Renee rang me this morning." He tried to sound casual and failed miserably.

The laughter died away from my face. That explained his unusual tension today. I'd been so immersed in my own dramas I hadn't looked very hard to find the source of my friend's problem. Phil never spoke of the woman who refused to leave her husband for him. I hadn't thought they ever communicated. He'd implied in the past that they'd severed their links totally.

"She's back in town. She suggested we meet."

"Is that a good idea?" I asked reluctantly, my expression deeply sympathetic. He'd been traumatised so much by the relationship I didn't want to see him open old wounds, but I was very conscious that it wasn't my decision to make.

"She's living alone."

"Has she left her husband?" My eyes widened in surprise. "He's not dead, is…?"

"No, he's not dead." Phil interrupted with uncharacteristic venom. "The miserable beggar has left her. Yeah, unbelievable, isn't it? For his physiotherapist, would you believe! Irony doesn't get much darker than that, does it?" He gave a bitter laugh. "Renee decides to do the decent thing and feels guilty as hell all this time –," his voice cracked with emotion and I lifted a comforting hand to his cheek, "–and in the end he dumps her!"

"How is she?"

"It was hard to tell on the phone. It happened six months ago. Can you believe it? She didn't phone me until this morning. Do you think that's significant? What should I do, Bells?" he asked with an anguished groan.

My eyes widened in dismay. He's asking me? I'd never felt less qualified to offer advice on emotional matters in my life!

"I mean, it's been a long time. People's feelings change. She sounded so…so impersonal. I'm not sure if I could hack being _just good friends_," he confessed thickly.

"Have _your_ feelings changed, Phil?"

I watched hope flare in his eyes and hoped to God I was doing – saying the right thing.

"No," he said simply.

"Then go for it," I advised.

"I've nothing to lose, have I?" he said with a sudden laugh.

Only you sanity, I thought silently.

He placed both his hands on my shoulders and planted aloud kiss on my lips. "Thanks, angel. Nobody will mind if I leave early, will they? Don't worry, I'll take a taxi," he added with a grin.

I watched him disappear with a worried frown.

**Third POV**

Across the room someone else had been watching this display of affection without any sign of the indulgent goodwill displayed by people closer to.

"Edward, darling, do you remember when…?"

Half on his feet, Edward looked at the small hand on his sleeve and slowly relaxed back into his chair. He forced his facial muscles to relax too before he turned back to his companion with a tight smile.

**:-o-O-o-:**

**BPOV**

"Where's Phil off to?" Emmett materialised at my side before I'd found a spare seat. "He looked like the devil was on his tail. He's been in a funny mood all day, have you noticed?"

I smiled affectionately up at my tall, muscled brother. "I have, but I'm surprised you did. You're a sensitive old thing, aren't you?" I teased, ruffling his hair.

"Please, Bells, not in front of people. Keep the loving gestures to a minimum. I've got a reputation to preserve. I know you had doubts about tonight, but it's been good, don't you think? The combination of wrinklies and us seems to work."

"I won't embarrass you by asking which category I come into."

Emmett grinned. "It's made Jazz's day that his parents are back," he observed, flopping into a chair and dragging another one closer for me. "They've invited me to stay the night. Are you cool with that?"

"Extremely cool."

"The way I hear it you weren't so cool earlier," he said casually. "And Jazz's Mum seemed pretty interested in you. Is there any connection?"

"Jasper's Mother is probably worried whether insanity runs in the family; especially as you're spending the night under the roof. When she arrived I was shrieking at Edward. It doesn't really matter why," I added firmly.

Emmett shrugged. "If you say so."

"Suffice it to say I made a fool of myself." _At the very least!_

"It happens to us all."

"What's this? Role-reversal? I'm the one meant to wheel out the homespun wisdom."

"Not any more. I'm officially a grown-up and you, little sister, are a free agent. Just because I don't often mention it doesn't mean I don't appreciate what you did – giving up university and stuff for me," he said gruffly.

"If you don't stop," I warned him, blinking back sudden tears and sniffing loudly, "I'll be forced into another unseemly public display of affection and you street credibility will be zero."

"In that case, let's definitely change the subject. Who's the looker with Edward?"

"His ex-fiancée."

"Ex? That's all right, then."

"All right for who?" I enquired suspiciously as he got to his feet.

"You, of course. If you fancy the guy don't let an ex put you off."

"I do not _fancy_ anyone, least of all Edward Cullen!" I winced.

If Emmett knew, probably other people did too. I glanced over my shoulder, half expecting to see people talking about me behind their hands. Paranoia, Bella, that's all you need! If I ever needed my sense of humour it's now!

"I worry about you, sis," Emmett confided with a critical frown. "Girls these days go for what they want. You shouldn't be so passive."

I am not passive – am I? I shook my head, rubbishing this ridiculous idea. Admittedly I did apply a bit of a double standard in the dating area, and I just couldn't see myself asking a man out, but men had been using double standards themselves for so long and I felt I was owed a few concessions.

Dating, as such, was not on the agenda as far as Edward was concerned. No, if I was to take the initiative I'd have to walk straight up to Edward and say – What would I say? Your place or mine? I'll supply the protection? I think not!

Edward hadn't claimed his dance, but then he'd had plenty of distractions. Did that woman always wear black? I wondered, glancing quickly over to the corner where Jessica and her parents were seated. The hitched up frilly creation she was wearing covered a lot and clearly revealed even more **(Image of outfit on Profile)**. Edward was still dancing attendance, as he had been all night. The older, distinguished-looking man had to be his father; the similarity was marked. They looked like a cosy family group.

Suddenly I couldn't take any more of it. I felt as if my head was going to explode. I plucked fretfully as my dress. The room was so hot I couldn't breathe properly.

Their combined laughter suddenly drifted across the room and something inside snapped. I couldn't keep up the pretence of having a great time for another second. If anyone asked me why I was leaving I was going to rely on the good old headache story; which was, coincidentally, true. By now I didn't much care if nobody believed me.

**:-o-O-o-:**

**A/N: Once again, I apologise for the long wait. I do have a few excuses though. I have been horribly ill for a long time now and I went to the dentist yesterday; I am no missing a tooth and my mouth was numb. :(**

**Was the chapter okay though?**

**I have a new poll on my Profile. Be sure to tell me what you think. Thanks!**

_**Question: What was the funniest excuse you or someone you know has used to get out of something?**_

**LittleTwilightManiac xx**

**P.S. I will update next weekend.**

**Next Chapter: Bella's journey home…**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I am so sorry that it took me so long to update. I'm not going to bother with excuses. :) Sorry for any mistakes. Enjoy the chapter and thank you for all the reviews.**

**All of my wonderful readers: **I'm not going to write individual messages to everyone; I am trying to post this as soon as possible. I want to let everybody know that I appreciate all of my reviews, favourites and alerts. Thanks :)

**Dedication:** I dedicate this chapter to: _All of my anonymous reviewers_. I can't send you any messages to tell you thanks so I feel I should dedicate this chapter to you! :)

**Disclaimer:** All things _Twilight _belong to their rightful owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

**BPOV**

I had never felt any fear towards the darkness. Every shadow didn't contain demons in my imagination. I found the velvety blackness oddly comforting. It wasn't even that dark tonight. Even without the street lamps I would have been able to see - the sky was ablaze with the cold white light of a brilliant swathe of stars and the mellower glow of the full moon. The silver luminescence was reflected against the frosty glitter on the pavements.

My journey home skirted the park. I felt perfectly safe here; it was where, at dusk or in the early morning, I often jogged. Of course then there were usually other people around, jogging or walking their dogs. I didn't pause to consider whether my sense of security was realistic; I was just happy to have escaped.

It was good, I told myself, that I'd seen Edward and Jessie together. They'd looked good, as I'd known they would. My original thoughts about Edward Cullen had been bang on target: he was definitely a shallow, egocentric rat. I couldn't imagine what had made me think otherwise! He hadn't spared a thought for my feelings when he'd continued his seduction campaign tonight. Was I to be the last fling before he trotted dutifully back to his childhood sweetheart?

The cry was eerily loud in the still night and for a split second I was distracted from my sombre reflections. After an initial moment of paralysed fear I identified the sound and my body relaxed.

It was only the plaintive cry of a cat. "Idiot!" I said out loud, feeling foolish. The noise continued, and without really thinking I left the path to follow it. A few yards away I came upon the culprit, swaying amidst the top branches of an oak tree. The animal looked no more than a kitten.

"Here puss-puss," I coaxed. "You can't stay up there all night, its freezing." It soon became pretty obvious the animal wasn't budging. It was also pretty obvious if I stopped in one position for much longer I'd lose all feeling in my extremities.

I sighed, and wrinkled my nose in concentration. If I walked off and left the creature I'd spend the night worrying about its fate. Calling the fire brigade in the middle of the night for something that couldn't exactly be termed life-threatening seemed frivolous. There was only one option open to me.

I took off my coat and folded it carefully on the ground; it had been my mother's, and though not the latest fashion it was good quality. My skin, previously protected by the heavyweight combination of cashmere and wool, immediately broke out in Goosebumps. I shivered and wrapped my arms about myself as the cold bit deep.

"I hope you appreciate this," I mutter as the cat let out a mournful cry. Teeth chattering, I lifted the skirt of my dress into a bulky knot above my knees. "Right, here goes," I said, selecting the easiest route up the tree in my mind's eye. Finally, I unzipped my boots and stepped out of them; heels were not meant for climbing trees. Mud clung hungrily to the fine denier of my stockings.

Long legs and a good head for heights meant that I soon reached the stranded animal, despite the poor conditions and less than ideal equipment. There was no protection from the stiff breeze up amongst the bare branches. I thought longingly of warm open fires and regretted the one in the sitting room of my empty house would be in cold embers by now.

"Come on, puss." At eye level now with the cat, I saw it was just a kitten, a tabby kitten. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Unfortunately the same couldn't be said of the cat. My hand closed tentatively around the soft fur and the cowering bundle of misery instantly became a hissing fury. I let out a cry and recoiled as claws flashed before my eyes. I lifted my arm automatically to shield my eyes and felt my grasp against the branch loosen. Desperately I tried to stop myself falling. I felt myself crashing through branches before my fingers closed around a thin branch. Pain shot through the muscles in my shoulders as momentum added weight to my body and I swung pendulum-like from the insubstantial limb. It was only a temporary reprieve and I knew it. I felt my fingers slipping and heard the branch creak alarmingly.

"Let go, Bella, I'll catch you!"

If my situation had allowed for it, I might well have given a sigh of relief. "But I'm heavy." And, I suspected, a long way off the ground.

"The branch is going to break. Just do it now!" came back the terse command.

"Now?"

"Yes, now!"

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes tightly and did exactly what he said.

"I told you I was heavy." Panting, I rolled off Edward's supine form, my movements sluggish as my skirt, which had slithered loose from its knot, wrapped itself around my legs.

He was sprawled lifelessly on the grass. "Edward?" I got onto my knees and leant forward anxiously. His eyes were closed. I was almost relieved when an alarming rattling noise came from the region of his throat. Almost… it was a terrible sound.

"Edward," I cried urgently, taking hold of his jacket lapel and shaking him. I hoped it was the shaft of moonlight that had leached the entire colour from his face. "Are you all right? Stop that right now. You're scaring me!"

To my intense relief his eyes opened. I slumped back on my heels and raised a trembling hand to my brow, which, despite the cold, was covered in a fine film of sweat. For an awful minute there I'd thought...

"_All_," Edward croaked in a more recognisable voice. "All!" He pulled himself into a sitting position. "I'll be lucky if I've only got cracked ribs. That sort of thing looks much easier in the movies; the hero clasps the girl to his manly bosom and strides off into the sunset with her expressing suitable gratitude," he added pointedly. "God, it was like being hit by a flying pig."

"Thanks _very_ much." A description guaranteed to delight any female. "I am grateful."

"You sound it. Ouch..."

I raised my bunched fists to my mouth and ground my teeth into the knuckles as I watched him stiffly get to his feet. I snatched my hands away self-consciously when he looked at me and affected an appearance of studied nonchalance.

"Let me help you," I sighed sharply, unable to maintain the pose as he grunted in pain.

"I'm fine, don't fuss," he said, fending me off with one hand and brushing the leaf mould off his dark suit with the other.

"Fine; be strong, silent and stupid if you want to," I observed tartly.

He looked at me, a smile dawning in his eyes. "Do you know you're blue?" he asked, as I continued to shiver convulsively.

"I left my coat over..."

Edward spotted the coat before I could, and, taking a couple of steps towards the neat bundle, he picked it up. "Come here," he said, shaking out the garment, "before you get pneumonia."

I stood with my back to him as he slid the heavy coat over my shoulders. I gave a sigh of relief as I shrugged my arms in. "I can't stop shaking," I admitted.

Edward leant forward. My head was tucked in the angle of his jaw. I could feel the firm pressure of his arms against me as he fastened the buttons.

"Thanks," I mumbled. Once my nose got past the sharp smell of grass and leaf mould, all I could smell was all Edward. The tantalising scent made me want to turn around and burrow closer, until it was all I could smell and all I could think about was him.

I abruptly walked forward out of his grasp, using the fact that I was still stood in bare feet as an excuse. I watched him slowly lower his hands self-consciously with a wry twist of his lips.

"What the hell possessed you?" he groaned savagely.

"There was a cat – a tabby, I think." I wobbled on one leg before regaining my balance as I pushed my foot back into one boot and numbly dragged it back up my leg.

"I'm not actually all that interested in the finer points of cat breeding," he drawled nastily.

"It was stuck. I tried to rescue it," I explained, looking upwards. I suddenly felt a little nauseous. Why hadn't I noticed earlier just how far up it was? If Edward hadn't come along when he had… I felt even worse when it came to me in a blinding flash that I'd not been more surprised to hear his voice because at that precise moment I'd been praying for exactly that.

What's happening to me? I'm not the sort of lame-brain female who waits to be rescued; I rescue myself! Admittedly my resources had been strained to the limit on the occasion...

"I don't see any cat," he replied, looking around with elaborate interest.

"Well, I didn't make it up." Did he think I did this sort of thing for pleasure? "It ran away." Not without leaving a memento, I reminded myself as the scratches along my forearm were stinging like blazes now.

"It's not the only one." His dry, almost impersonal observation made me glare at him suspiciously.

'Tactical withdrawal' had a much nicer ring to it. If he's guessed why I left so precipitately what will I do? Lie, I decided. What else is there for me to do?

"Cats always land on their feet," he continued, in a voice that no longer sounded quite so objective. Actually, I decided, sneaking a quick peek at his face, he looked half way to losing his temper. "Which is more than I can say for humans," he added cuttingly. "Logically, if the animal climbed the damned thing it could climb down."

"Don't lecture, Edward. The poor thing was crying. I couldn't leave it, could I?" You'd have thought anyone with an ounce of decency could see the logic of my arguments, but from his expression it was obvious Edward couldn't. The shadows highlighted the sharp planes and interesting hollows of his face, bringing to life an ascetic aspect I hadn't noticed until now.

"You climbed a tree in the pitch-dark, in sub-zero temperatures, barefooted…?" The words 'imbecilic' and 'deranged' hovered, unspoken but loud in the eloquent pause.

"Well, I could hardly climb it in these, could I?" I pointed out reasonably, stretching one muddy but elegantly designed foot towards him.

I studied him covertly from under the sweep of my thick lashes. Whilst I hadn't been consciously trying to provoke him, I did feel a perverse satisfaction that he looked as though he was choking on his frustrated rage.

"Sorry about your suit."

"The suit!" he snarled, looking at me as if I was insane. "To hell with the suit! You could have killed yourself and me too." The muscles in his throat seemed to work hard as he swallowed.

"I didn't ask you to catch me," I mumbled, displaying what I knew was perilously close to childish aggression. Wishing didn't count as a request, did it? A confused expression suddenly crossed my face. "How come you were here anyhow?" I asked with a puzzled frown. Confusion turned to anger as I met his guileless green gaze. "You were following me!" I accused hoarsely. "Weren't you? What a creepy thing to do," I said, shaking my head disgustedly.

"Lucky for you that I have creepy tendencies, isn't it?"

"You _were_ following me then?"

"I saw you leave the party; alone and on foot. Tell me, Bella, does it strike you as a rational thing to do in this day and age? Do you make a habit of exposing yourself to unnecessary risks? The doorman said you'd refused a taxi. He was quite concerned."

"This from the man who abs…jumps off mountains and…and…" My anger was intensified by the knowledge there was some justification to this observation.

"There's no comparison and you know it!" he snapped tersely.

"This isn't exactly New York. I was perfectly safe..." My voice trailed away as I finally acknowledged I'd been nothing of the sort. In my right mind I'd never have done anything so impulsive; only it was becoming pretty obvious I wasn't in my right mind, and the reason for that insanity was at that moment looking as me as is I was crazy.

"How boring," Edward drawled. "I think going somewhere dull like New York would be a safer outlet for your adventurous instincts," he drawled sarcastically.

"Have you?" I said abruptly, self-consciously aware of the sudden gleam of eager curiosity in my eyes. "Been to New York?"

"I worked there for a while. Have you?"

I gave a sigh and hugged the heavy coat around me. "No," I admitted regretfully. "I always wanted to travel, but I haven't got around to it yet." Alice had wanted me to go backpacking around Australia after my finals, but I hadn't been able to leave Emmett or the business.

There wasn't an ounce of self-pity in my voice, but it seemed to hold a wistful quality.

"But you will…?"

Despite Edward's harsh, almost angry frown, I thought I had detected an ounce of sympathy in his voice, and my chin went up in automatic defiance. "Do you doubt it?"

"I don't doubt that you could do anything you put your mind to." The unexpected admiration in his voice made me forget how cold I was, but he had to spoil it. "Perhaps I should take you to Central Park the next time you decide to risk your neck playing Tarzan?"

I had a sudden insanely attractive version of myself travelling to all the places I'd ever dreamed of. My guide was the same person in all the exotic locations I'd frequently drooled over in travel brochures. The personal guide of my imagination had mesmerising emerald eyes to die for, and all the drooling he did was over me. I dismissed this piece of juvenile fantasising with an angry frown.

"If and when I decide to travel it won't be as an accessory. I'm afraid the strain of being an amusing companion would spoil the experience for me."

"In my experience, Bella, sharing has a way of enhancing an experience."

I couldn't take my eyes from the muscle that throbbed spasmodically in his lean cheek; it was like a time bomb, but much more aesthetically pleasing.

"Or ruining it," I persisted stubbornly.

"I wonder to what extremes you're prepared to take this. Your honeymoon, for instance… Are you prepared to relax your prohibition then, at least?"

"Have I ever suggested I have any intention of getting married, now or in the future?"

His expression hardened. "I see you can be realistic when you want to be," he reflected drily. "I saw the boyfriend run out on you. What's his idea of a romantic weekend break? He goes away and you stay at home to iron his shirts?"

"Theo?" The after-effects of my little adventure were beginning to make themselves felt, so I didn't immediately latch onto his meaning. "What? Oh, yes, he did have to leave early," I said, sounding and feeling a bit vague.

My knees had started to shake. There couldn't be a worse time for delayed shock to kick in! I needed all my wits about me now. If I gave in to natural instinct I'd be blubbing in his arms – his strong arms, with just the most perfect degree of muscle formation possible – and one thing might lead to another. I snapped my spine to attention and firmly banished the dreamy, moonstruck expression from my face.

"He doesn't seem the reliable type exactly." His lips compressed into a thin sneering line. "But then most women seem to put that fairly low down on their list of priorities in lovers." His nostrils flared as he stared at me in disgust. "I just don't understand you."

"I didn't ask for your understanding." The way things stood it was the last thing I wanted!

"You didn't ask me to catch you, but I did."

"You dropped me," I reminded him.

"I cushioned your fall," he corrected. "And it's likely I'll be black and blue tomorrow for my trouble," he mused thoughtfully, pressing his hand to his flat abdomen. "Come on, let's get you home," he said as I stood there dithering with cold.

"I'm quite capable of getting home on my own."

"Humour me, or I'll have nightmares about all the detours you might make on the way there." He ignored my petulant expression and took hold of my elbow. "Maybe you're happy walking through this Gothic landscape–" he looked thoughtfully at the skeletal black framework of branches above our heads "–but I'm made of softer stuff. I need someone to hold my hand."

My indignant gaze slid away from his mockery. He wasn't soft; anything but. Recalling the steely promise of his body as he'd kissed me made my heart thud so loud I was worried he might hear. But for the interruption I might well have had more to recall. My shivers were no longer entirely due to the cold.

It occurred to me as we walked in silence the short distance to my home, that anybody watching us would have assumed we were lovers having a late-night walk, doing the things that lovers did: kissing in the moonlight…

"Is something wrong? You kind of whimpered," Edward explained as I raised my panicky eyes to his face.

"I trod on something sharp," I improvised hastily.

"I won't waste my time telling you to be careful."

"We're here," I said in relief. I scrabbled through the contents of my evening purse to find the door keys.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

"Yes, I do!" My eyes widened in horror.

"To use the phone. I left the party a little abruptly. I wouldn't want anybody to worry."

"Oh, well…" The ironic gleam of amusement in his eyes made me feel even more wretched. He probably knew that I didn't trust myself to be alone with him. "Haven't you got your mobile with you?"

"Never on a social occasion. It's my token resistance to being eaten alive by the financial system. I let work take over my life once upon a time, but nowadays I strive for a little more balance."

"Don't you like your work?" I asked, my curiosity sharpened by his words.

"If I didn't I wouldn't do it," he said with uncompromising certainty.

"But?" I prompted.

"But I don't need to eat and sleep my job, no matter how stimulating it is. Working excessively long hours, contrary to popular belief, isn't the sign of diligence; in my view it just means you're bad at time management. You have to decide what's important – prioritise. I made the mistake once of equating a punishing work schedule with efficiency."

I knew, watching the sombre shift of expression on his face, that he was thinking about his abortive marriage plans. What did Jessie make of the new improved version? I wondered grimly.

"Well, you'd better come in," I conceded ungraciously. "You can use the phone in here," I said abruptly, as we stepped into the hallway. I gestures towards the console table.

Edward glanced up to the galleried landing. "I wouldn't want to disturb anyone," he said softly.

"That's all right. Angela's gone to watch Ben play football in Ireland; there's true love for you." It occurred to me belatedly that I'd told him, unprompted, that I was alone in the house. _He didn't even ask you, Dumbo! When will you learn to keep your mouth shut? _I silently despaired.

"Emmett is sleeping over with Jazz and your professor has gone walkabout." I found the sardonic smile that curved his lips deeply disturbing. "All alone, Bella?" he speculated.

"Uhuh," I confirmed, as though I didn't have a care in the world. _Don't over-act, girl, it's a dead giveaway. _"That doesn't happen very often." I wasn't going to be spineless and surrender to outright panic. Pride forced me to put up at least a token resistance. "I intend to enjoy the solitude," I assured him defiantly, in case he'd missed the point.

"Then the professor isn't expected home tonight?"

"He didn't say," I responded truthfully. "Let yourself out when you're done." _Please_ I added mentally as I vanished into the kitchen.

I flicked the heating thermostat on the wall, slipped off my coat and pressed the backs of my legs against the lukewarm radiator. It would be warm in a minute, and Edward would be gone. I watched the door, my body and mind torn apart by a tormenting dilemma.

The sane portion of my mind wanted him to meekly go. I told myself he was probably anxious to make amends with Jessie for his hasty departure. On the other hand, I'd never seen him display behaviour that could be categorised as _meek_. My mind started feverishly working on what I'd say if he did walk into the room.

"Did you have a problem with the front door?" It was the first thing tat popped into my head when he did appear, several minutes later.

"No, not with the door." He didn't smile. His facial muscles didn't shift, even fractionally, to give me any clue to his mood.

The husky rasp of his voice ate deeply into my indecision. There was something mesmerising about his steady gaze.

"Is it anything I can help with?" All it lacked was a sultry pout, I thought drowning in a wave of mortification. _A come-on, a blatant come-on, Bella_. He'd certainly interpreted it as such if the smouldering approval in his eyes was anything to go by.

_I can't believe I did that! What possessed me? As if I don't know_, I mocked myself grimly. I bought that dress and went out tonight with the definite, if undeclared, intention of being seduced. _Perhaps even doing some seducing,_ I accused myself angrily. It seems I don't even have the backbone to let my principles get in the way.

"Definitely," he responded, without as much as the flicker of an eyelash. My anger couldn't stand the impact of that voice – deep, suggestive, and mind-blowingly sexy. How could one word imply so much? My body responded mindlessly and my brain wasn't far behind.

Under the circumstances, I could understand the faint air of smugness about him. In a state of dry-mouthed anticipation, I watched him walk across the room. He placed his hands on the wall either side of my face, his physical proximity finishing the job of snuffing out the last threads of resistance – as well as much of the light, with his shoulders.

I wanted him at any cost. Even if that cost was my pride. The frantic feelings of hunger were spiralling swiftly out of control inside me.

"Aren't they expecting you?" I whispered huskily. I couldn't bring myself to say 'Isn't _she_'. His fingers were moving playfully through my hair and I felt slightly dizzy, warm and excited.

"No." He bent his head to nuzzle the area around my ear and my hands moved in mute, fluttering appeal before coming to rest, clenched tightly, at my sides. "You look very beautiful tonight. You knew I was watching you, didn't you, Bells?"

"No."

The husky, monosyllabic response was all I was capable of. His fingers were now toying with one short strap on my dress; he was sliding it over the smooth curve of my shoulder and back again. His touch was whisper-like and soft against my skin. I gasped. The pressure inside me was building until I felt I'd die if he didn't kiss me – if I didn't feel his lips, taste…

I lifted my head abruptly, and, hooking my hand behind his head, yanked it down to my level. After the initial widening of shock, Edward's eyes filled with sensuous delight. I felt the rumble of warm laughter vibrate in his chest. My expression engrossed, I tilted my head first to one side and then the other, rubbing my nose along the side of his before fixing my lips against his. It felt so good to touch him…to smell him.

I relaxed against him, as the pressure was gently returned, and closed my eyes, deeply absorbing the unfamiliar texture of his lips. Even though the kiss was modest, I felt wildly daring. Taking the initiative was something I had never before contemplated doing. Surrendering to a man was something I'd never contemplated either.

"Open your mouth," he said against my lips, and without thinking I did just that. I felt rather than heard the harsh groan that was ripped from his throat at my ready compliance. He cupped my face between his big hands, looked hungrily into my eyes and kissed me with bruising ferocity.

The raw force of his passion was more in every way than I'd imagined. I hadn't come to terms with my fevered response to this erotic invasion before I suddenly conscious of cool air against my skin.

Hands flat against his chest, I pulled back just as the rumpled blue fabric collapsed with a rustle around my ankles. My wide, startled eyes shot immediately to his face.

Edward's eyes were fixed on my body, travelling slowly over the entire slim length. He didn't seem to be breathing. When I looked downwards, it was as if I was seeing my own body for the first time through his eyes. I knew my body was firm and toned; I'd always taken my figure very much for granted. Now I was aware of every rounded curve and taut line. I felt the rosy peaks of my breasts pucker and tingle under his regard.

The lacy triangle of my pants and the silky hold-ups I wore seemed somehow much more intentionally provocative and erotic than complete nudity. Did he think I'd chosen them with this in mind? Had I, at some subconscious level? My body was racked by shudders of a febrile intensity. My senses were at fever-pitch as I waited for his gaze to reach my face

When it finally did there was a savage exhilaration in his eyes that made me panic. A frisson of fear rippled through me. Is he seeing me, really seeing _me_? I wondered fearfully. He looked so…_driven_, and the desire in his passion glazed eyes seemed almost impersonal.

"I didn't mean to scare you." He ripped the loosened tie from around his throat and let it drop.

His words reminded me of his perception – scary at times, welcome now. I watched him tug impatiently at his collar, as though he was having trouble breathing.

"It's just you're so incredibly perfect. I'm not sure how long I can look at you without touching and stay sane."

I felt my fears retreat abruptly. The awe in his expression was anything but impersonal. His desire made him vulnerable in a puzzling way. "You can touch…"

The sight of his hand around the firm swell of one breast was intensely arousing. The warm, liquid movement deep in my stomach became molten and actually painful in its intensity.

"Is this what chemistry feels like?" I asked, biting my lip to hold back the feral whimper that ached to escape in my throat. I gasped, and my body arched. The friction of his thumb against my nipple was slow and languorous.

"Only for the lucky few, I suspect." His fingers slid into my sleek hair, providing the support my neck appeared unable to supply.

"I think perhaps I'm just a bit scared by the way I'm feeling," I confessed huskily. My fingers slid inside his shirt, and I caught my tongue slightly between my teeth in concentration as I slipped several buttons with my thumbs. The satisfying firmness of the flesh underneath filled me with a delight bordering on delirium.

"How are you feeling?" he asked throatily as he insinuated one muscular thigh firmly between my legs.

I caught my breath sharply. "I think I'm feeling you."

His grin was fierce. "You only think?" he growled, planting a series of open-mouthed kisses down the side of my neck before dragging at my swollen lower lip sharply with his teeth. "I think we can do better than that." He suddenly swung me up into his arms. He glanced at the kitchen table and shook his head. "I'm hoping that you don't need the stimulus of exotic locations."

"I've no serious objections to bedrooms." This display of masculine domination shouldn't, in this politically correct, enlightened world, make me melt; but it did. Perhaps my hormones are less well educated than the rest of me? I theorised infrequently. I flexed my toes towards the ceiling and felt deliciously decadent.

"Give me directions." He gave me a look as though asking for me to share the private joke that had brought the half-smile to my lips. Strangely it seemed he wanted to share everything and not just my body.

I watched as his eyes grazed across my lips. I felt his reaction towards me as his pace speeded up. I could see that he wanted to break into a run and compete with an Olympic sprinter up the stairs. He was as eager as a schoolboy.

_Give directions!_ It struck me forcibly that if he was expecting any more than 'second door on the left' he was in for a big let down. He obviously hadn't banked on fumbling tonight. My laughter had a slightly unsteady note to it.

In the act of kicking the door open, Edward paused and looked at me with a puzzled frown. "What's wrong?"

"My sense of direction, or lack of it, is legendary."

Edward seemed to accept my explanation. I knew it was cowardly to postpone the inevitable, but I pushed the problem firmly to the back of my mind. It was easy when my mind was crammed full to overflowing with all these new and marvelous sensations; I desperately didn't want to spoil everything now.

"Concentrate. I'm relying on you."

"I hope I don't disappoint you." I smiled, but a flicker of anxiety crept once more into my eyes. "I can walk," I began but he was already taking the stairs two at a time, as though he carried nothing more substantial than thistledown.

_Dear Lord, Bella, when you start talking thistledown you've gone mushy beyond redemption!_ What sort of talk was that for a girl with her feet on the ground? My foot, rubbing up and down the opposite calf, was a pointed reminder that my feet were a long way from the ground – figuratively or otherwise!

"My room's the second door on the left."

"The point of no return?" Back pressed against my bedroom door, Edward looked directly at me, one eyebrow at a quizzical angle.

He'd obviously picked up on my concerns – with that eerie perception of his - and interpreted them in his own way, a way that had brought a taut strain to his face. He thinks I'm going to choke at the final fence.

"That was way…way back," I stated firmly.

He inclined his head slightly and exhaled sharply. "Good," he said simply as he leaned back against the door, hard enough to make it swing open. He reached blindly behind him for a light switch, his lips fastened against mine.

I was fast discovering there was an infinite variety to kissing. When he came up for air, I gave a deep sigh and let my head drop back against his shoulder.

When my dad and I had decorated my room I'd thought the pale pink and grey co-ordination was the last thing in style; it had been the envy of all my friends. I'd been sixteen then, and the style hadn't stood the test of time. Putting it kindly, it looked distinctly frayed around the edges. What would Edward make of my early attempts at interior design?

I lifted my head for his shoulder to see what his reaction would be; only he didn't seem to have much interest in the décor. He had a lot of interest in me, though. He was watching me with an expression of gloating admiration. I'd have had to be made of stone not to be excited by that look. I didn't feel remotely stone-like as I nibbled softly on the fingers he trailed against my mouth.

Walking slap-bang into the side of my bunk bed did eventually distract Edward. He did a quick adjustment that just stopped me being deposited on the inevitably pink quilt. I'd discovered how much I loathed pink about six months after the rooms transformation - just as my mother had predicted; my parents had been great believers in letting the young make their own mistakes – and live with them! Only due to financial restraints I'd been living with my mistakes a lot longer than any of us had anticipated all that time ago.

Edward blinked, as if seeing the room for the first time. "You like pink?"

"You get used to it eventually."

His sudden frown had a fastidious edge that made me all the more conscious of every shabby piece of bad taste. I stiffened in his arms.

"We could turn out the light," I conceded, my voice stiff with injured pride, "if your libido can't take the strain. If you need glamour, scented sheets and candlelight to keep you in the mood we might as well call it a day right now!" I told him bluntly.

He gave a hoarse gasp of strained amusement and lowered me slowly to my feel. The slow part and the hand firmly placed in the small of my back made it impossible for me to survive the process unaware of how unscathed his libido was!

"I've been finding it a problem dampening down my lecherous instincts, not igniting them." I squirmed against him, but his hand prevented my retreat. "A big problem," he added with a wicked glint in his eyes.

I was relieved when those remarkable eyes moved beyond my face. My senses were so highly tuned to every flicker of expression in the malachite orbs I had felt completely out of my depth.

Edward was regarding the bunks warily. "Do you like being on top or underneath?" A grin split his face as my colour deepened to match the room's colour scheme – a bright pink all over. "I was talking geographically, not technically," he told me solemnly. "Though now you come to mention it…"

"I knew that," I sniffed.

He laughed, and scooped me back up into his arms. Without warning he sat down on the bottom bunk; without warning he pulled me across his lap.

"A man could get concussion in the throes of passion," he observed, frowning upward at the top bunk, which was just a whisper away from the top of his head.

Why? What was he going to do? I wondered, suddenly feeling distinctly out of my depth. "Edward…" I began worriedly. I didn't finish my words because he rolled smoothly onto his side and placed me on the bed.

"Hold that thought, angel. Just let me get out of this." He began pulling clumsily at his jacket, shrugging it off his powerful shoulders. "You've been driving me slightly crazy from day one, do you know that? There," he said, finally managing to shrug off his jacket. "No surgery required just yet." He muttered drily, half to himself.

"Surgery?" His shirt was now completely unbuttoned, and the shadowy promise of his body and its sleek, sculpted musculature sent an erotic thrill racing through my veins.

"Private joke."

"I'm not sure this is the right time for secrets," I prompted, when I realised he couldn't see I waiting for the punch line. Knowing I could see him but the shadows were hiding me, gave me the passing illusion of security. The illusion vanished when he spoke.

"Jessie said my suit would have to be surgically removed by the time the night was over. So maybe I've got a few years' leeway."

My sharp intake of breath must have been audible from where he stood because he paused, his hands still on the leather belt that circled his waist. It was obvious he was frustrated beyond belief as he strained and failed to see my face in the shadows. All he could most likely make out was a pale blur.

_Did he think I wanted to know that? _"Let's get one thing straight right now, Edward. Don't talk about Jessie when you're making love to me."

His lips formed a silent whistle of relief. "I can live with that. Any other conditions I should know about?"

"Don't even think about her either." So what if I sounded like an advocate of the thought police? I didn't even care if the request made me sound revealingly vulnerable. It was vitally important to me to know that, even if he didn't love me, I wasn't just a substitute tonight. All I'd have at the end of the night would be memories, and I didn't want those memories to be flawed.

"The only person I will be thinking about tonight is you, Bella." His words had had a ring of authenticity but I had seen his hesitation. The chill that had settled around my heart didn't thaw immediately.

"You'll have to take my word for it. Do you want me to go?"

"No!"

I registered his deep sigh of relief, but I didn't have time to feel smug at all. It had been a very flattering sound, because Edward, minus most of his clothes, had slid in beside me on the narrow bed.

"Love me, Bella," he murmured huskily. "I want you to live out your fantasies with me."

**:-o-O-o-:**

**A/N: Once again, I apologise for the long wait. I am also sorry for any mistakes and feel free to point them out to me. What did you think of the chapter?  
**_**Question: What is the most embarrassing thing you have been caught doing? I will post my favourites at the end of the next chapter. :D**_

**LittleTwilightManiac xx**

**P.S. No promises but I will try and update soon. :)**

**Next Chapter: The truth comes out…**


	7. Author Note

**AN: I know that these things are annoying, and I do apologise, but this one is important.**

**I am sorry to say that this story will not be continued; if you would like to know more feel free to PM me.**

**Thanks,**

**LTM**


End file.
